


There's a Killer on the Streets

by vinnie2757



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dark, Attempted Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Drugs, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Gangsters, Humanstuck, M/M, Mental Institutions, Murder, Murder Mystery, Physical Torture, Psychological Torture, Psychosis, Triggers, amateur detectives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:32:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinnie2757/pseuds/vinnie2757
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'<i>We should get our date on, y'know? Go out, see a movie, hold hands, catch a killer. It'll be a motherfucking JOYRIDE!</i>'</p><p>When Dave Strider and Aradia Megido are hospitalised for severe injuries following an incident in New York involving The Felt, John Egbert takes it upon himself to find the perpetrators and bring them to justice.</p><p>What he doesn't realise is the seeming accident goes deeper than just 'wrong place, wrong time'. A lot deeper.</p><p>There's a killer on the streets, and it will stop at nothing to kill them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Written in plot-collaboration with StarHost, who is being ridiculously lovely and helping me fine-tune this clusterfuck of a tale as well as clearing up my grammar fails.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a call that begins a mystery.

At thirteen minutes past four on the morning of the twenty-fifth of October, John Ebert is rudely awakened by the sound of his cell phone ringing. For a moment, he considers ignoring it, but the hand on his hip squeezes, bitten-down nails digging in, and a sleep-dazed voice growls for him to answer the phone before it’s shoved down his throat. John is quick to pick it up and end the unrecognised number tone he doesn’t remember setting.

‘This better be good,’ he grumbles, flailing to an upright position. ‘Sun’s not even up.’

‘ _Am I speaking to Mister John Egbert_?’ The voice sounds as tired as he feels, but where John has annoyance in his vowels, she has patience and the sharp edge of concern on her consonants.

‘You are, yes. May I ask who I’m speaking to?’

‘ _My name is Anne Smith_ ,’ she replies. ‘ _I am the Senior Ward Sister of Intensive Care at New York Downtown Hospital_.’

‘New York,’ John repeats, bland. His heart thumps in his chest once, twice, before lurching into his throat. ‘Oh my God! Has something happened to Rose? Is she alright?’

‘ _Ah, I wouldn’t be able to say_ ,’ Anne sighs. ‘ _I’m calling in relation to a Mister David Strider_.’

‘Dave? Since when was Dave even in New York?’

‘ _Mister Egbert, please, calm down. Again, I wouldn’t know, but what I do know is that his brother is at present unavailable and you are the only other person listed as family on Mister Strider’s records, rendering you his Next-of-Kin and the person we are to call_.’

‘What about Rose Lalonde?’

‘ _She isn’t listed. Only you and his brother are. I apologise for calling so early, Mister Egbert, but I was told to call you as soon as Mister Strider was stable_.’

‘Alright,’ John says, and runs a hand through his hair before rubbing his face, debating finding his glasses. ‘Alright. What happened?’

From beside John, Karkat Vantas makes a few gestures in John’s direction that are as rude as they are adorable. John can only vaguely see them, but he has seen them at least once a day for the last ten years, so he hardly needs to. He prods at the caramel skin of Karkat’s arm with his free hand until he opens up and rolls over so it looks like he’s giving John his full attention. He could almost believe it if it wasn’t for the black bruises on the back of Karkat’s eyelids. He’s still and quiet for maybe five seconds, but then his cell rings and he’s obliged to answer it.

Anne is quiet whilst John prods at his boyfriend, but eventually, she says, ‘ _Mister Strider was involved in what we suspect to be gangland activities at two-am this morning. He has sustained heavy injuries, but he’s now considered to be in a stable condition_.’

‘Dave doesn’t run with any gangs,’ John corrects automatically.

‘ _I never said he did_ ,’ Anne tells him. ‘ _Without confirmation from Mister Strider, we can only assume, but he appears to have been third-party involvement. Wrong place wrong time. Happens a lot_.’

‘When can I come and see him?’ John asks when that’s sunk in, and Karkat mumbles, ‘She’s what?’ into his phone.

‘ _Due to the nature of his injuries, Mister Strider is currently under heavy sedation, and will probably be under heavy sedation for several days_.’

‘What does that mean?’

Karkat murmurs a, ‘How are you holding up?’ and John wonders how Teri found out. She is on a law placement, though, so maybe she was there when it was reported. It’s a bit of a longshot, John admits.

‘ _What it means, Mister Egbert, is that Mister Strider is currently so high on morphine he can’t tell his right from his left_.’

‘Oh.’

And then, out of nowhere, Karkat snaps, ‘Stay where you are! No, you fucking retard! Stay there! Stay in that exact fucking spot or I will kill the shit out of you! I’m coming to get you, alright?’

 _Wow_ , John thinks, _Teri’s in a really bad way_.

‘ _I promise you, Mister Egbert, as soon as we believe Mister Strider is ready for visitors, you will be the first to know. I know you don’t want to hear it, but try to go about your business as usual. Running yourself ragged will do nobody any good_.’

John gives her a curt goodbye and hangs up.

Karkat is already yanking on a pair of jeans and throwing curses at them. John wonders if he realises they’re actually John’s, and decides he probably doesn’t.

‘Are you going to see Teri?’ he asks, and Karkat stops failing to dress himself to stare.

‘Why would I be going to see Teri?’ He looks as confused as ever, and John resigns speaking forever.

‘Well, Dave’s in hospital,’ John begins, but Karkat cuts him off.

‘Strider isn’t my business,’ he snaps. ‘Aradia’s in a coma and Soll’s running himself into a fucking hole over it, so I’m going to get him.’

‘Where is she?’ John asks, because last he heard, she was in Kansas.

‘New York. Soll says she got involved in some kind of gang fight or something?’

John had opened his mouth to remind Karkat that New York was the other side of the country, but the mention of a gang fight has his jaw clicking shut. He leaps out of bed and begins pulling on clothes. When he has clean boxers, a T-shirt and one sock half-on, he begins throwing the contents of his dresser into a suitcase.

Karkat stares at him some more. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’

‘Dave’s in hospital in New York,’ John explains, waving an old _Ghostbusters_ T-shirt around. ‘Because of gangland activities. I’m willing to bet they’re linked – if not exactly the same event! Pack a bag, Karkat, we’re going to New York!’

For a minute, there is silence as they stare at each other from either side of the bed, and then they both burst into a flurry of movement. Less than half an hour later, they are peeling out of Maple Valley and weaving through the early dregs of traffic.

John drives for eighteen hours straight, despite Karkat’s nigh-on constant insistence that he lets him drive for nine of those hours. John has seen Karkat’s driving and has no desire to be neither arrested nor hospitalised. At eleven, when his eyes are aching and the streetlamps are as blinding as they are guiding, he concedes defeat and pulls into a motel in Minneapolis. Karkat tells him that the journey was meant to take twenty-three hours, and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

John lets him drive the rest of the way, though he takes over again once they hit New York.

‘The last thing New York needs,’ John tells him as they climb over each other to swap seats because neither is capable of just getting out of the car. ‘Is an angry little ginger shouting road rage-y curses at all the other drivers.’

He filters into the appropriate lane as Karkat replies with a low, ‘Fuck you very much. You know full well why I’m ginger.’

John just grins across at him, and slams a hand on the horn when Karkat punches him.

 

##### =>

##### 

As they walk through reception of New York Downtown Hospital in Lower Manhattan, John bumps into a tall fellow in a dark suit. John extends a hand and apologises.

‘Don’t sweat it, kid,’ the suit shrugs. He’s got a broken arm. ‘Just watch your step next time.’

And then he’s gone and John hurries after Karkat.

‘Hi,’ he grins at the receptionist. They’ve been on the road all day, and he is acutely aware of the fact he hasn’t shaved for two days and Karkat is even more crabby than normal. ‘My name’s John Egbert, I was called about Dave Strider?’

The receptionist taps at the computer for a minute. ‘Ah, yes, okay, let me call Doctor Carter through for you.’ She picks up the phone, but Karkat leaps in before she dial.

‘Aradia Megido was admitted yesterday morning in a coma,’ he starts, and John rolls his eyes. ‘There’s a friend of mine wandering around – well, I say friend, really just an asshole I grew up with and am therefore responsible for so that’s the only reason I’m here I don’t really care about Aradia, John don’t give me that look, you know what I mean – anyway, point is. There’s a guy wandering around like a love-starved puppy and I need to go and get him so I can flush his head down a toilet.’

The receptionist stares at him. John makes an apologetic hand gesture over Karkat’s shoulder and mouths ‘sorry’ at her. She puts the phone down and starts tapping at the keyboard again.

‘Miss Megido is in Room 6:12 of the coma ward,’ she tells Karkat. ‘Up the stairs to your right.’

‘Cheers,’ he says, turns to John and adds, ‘Try not to kill yourself,’ and then disappears around the corner.

‘Okay,’ the receptionist sighs with the air of someone who deals with that a lot, and picks up the phone again.

As she dials, John tells her, ‘He’s always like that.’

She nods. ‘I can well imagine.’ Her voice abruptly changes and she becomes a little more perky. ‘Doctor Carter? Yes, it’s Lizzie on the front desk. John Egbert’s here – David Strider, that’s right. Yes, okay, I’ll tell him. Yes, I’ll make sure.’

She puts the phone down.

‘He’s just filing some paperwork,’ she explains. ‘He’ll be down in about ten minutes. In the meantime, I need you to fill out some forms for me?’

‘Sure,’ John replies, and roots in his pockets for a pen. ‘Have you got a pen?’ he asks when he can’t find one.

She hands him one and he goes to the chairs to fill them out. At first, as he’s filling out Dave’s details, he considers playing a prank, because what would be funnier than classifying Dave as a woman? But then he stops and thinks, and decides that his best bro is currently doped up on painkillers and probably still in a lot of pain, and that’s not a very nice thing to do, so he carefully prints ‘male’ into the box and carries on.

Doctor Carter is a tall, pale man with immaculate hair and heavy bags under his eyes. The first words out of his mouth are, ‘You’re lucky Mister Strider was weak from blood loss or I’d be suing.’

John sighs. ‘What did he do?’

‘Kicked me in the nads. Come on, let’s go to my office.’

As they walk through the corridors, John says, ‘Dave’s not the biggest fan of hospitals, and he has issues with personal space. If I’d known, I would have warned you.’

Carter holds the door open and John slips past him.

‘Okay, John – can I call you John?’ When he nods, Carter continues. ‘Okay, I’d like you to look at these photos.’

John looks, and turns them. ‘What am I looking at?’

‘David Strider when he rocked up on my operating table at two this morning.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Okay, see these three marks here?’ He points and John nods. ‘Those are bullet holes. That’s his neck.’ He points at a picture of a mess of red and peach. ‘He was garrotted with what we think was thin wire, but we can’t be certain. It wasn’t deep enough to cut through the important bits, but it’s likely to leave scarring.’

‘Dave’s a lot stronger than he looks,’ John assures him. ‘He probably fought them off. Do you know – do you know who it was?’

‘We’ve got reason to believe it was a gang of thugs called The Felt.’

‘The Felt?’

‘Yeah, they’ve been around for about ten, maybe twenty years now? Twenty-five at a push. Problem with these crime families, they always start off really quiet. Either way, he was found in their known turf, so it’s not that big a leap.’

‘He was found with Aradia Megido, right?’ John asks, and Carter looks at him sharply.

‘What?’

‘I’m friends with her, and my partner got a call about her, and it just struck me as a bit too coincidental to be unrelated, you know?’

‘They were found together, yes,’ Carter agrees. ‘Does your partner know what happened to her?’

‘I don’t know, the call came from Soll, and neither he nor Karkat are the most coherent when they get all worked up, so I don’t know what Karkat knows, but I don’t know what happened.’

‘We’ve had to induce a coma,’ Carter explained. ‘She suffered blunt force trauma to the skull.’

‘Oh.’

For a second, they’re silent, John scratching at his cheek and looking at the photos. ‘Where are they? The bullets I mean.’

‘You mean the actual bullets, or where they went in?’

‘Where they went in.’

‘All three avoided his lungs, though one clipped a rib tight enough to fracture it, and we had to replace his liver. He’s a very lucky man; greater men have died of less.’

The adjective chafes, and John says, ‘Like I said, Dave’s a lot stronger than he looks.’

‘Strength doesn’t factor into it,’ Carter replies. ‘Not to any great capacity anyway. You can have all the will to live that you like, but Dave came very close to bleeding out, and no amount of strength would have kept him alive.’

John says nothing, but touches the smears of blood across the skin in the photograph. ‘Can I see him?’

Carter looks at his watch. ‘It’s not visiting hours, but, what the hell, you look dead on your feet, let’s go see if he’s awake.’

He leads John through another set of corridors into the Intensive Care unit, and through a set of double doors. Dave is in room 111, and he grins when he sees who’s come in.

‘Johnny boy!’ he coos, and extends hands taped with medical equipment in a silent, unsubtle request for a hug.

‘Oh God,’ John says. But he goes over anyway, because it’s Dave and it’s impossible to refuse Dave. He’s careful of the IV in the back of his hand and the bandages around his chest and neck, and pats his best bro on the shoulder as roughly as he dares.

He barely touches him.

Dave thumps him on the back, laughing into his neck. He sounds like a wreck. Dave usually sounds like a wreck because he doesn’t sleep and like a proper Texan student, drinks nothing but shitty beer (which, according to a drunken slur over the new video function on Pesterchum, was ironic) but this is something else. His accent is a lot thicker than normal, and the slur on his vowels is much more extended, and the sounds come higher in his throat than normal, giving him the squeaky, mismatched giggle of a thirteen-year-old. John gets the impression that he’s not done sighing yet.

‘Dave. Dave, let go,’ he warns, and after a few more prompts, manages to convince him to let go and disentangles himself.

‘Hey,’ Dave coos, and slaps a hand to John’s cheek. John peels it off and puts it down on the bed, but Dave turns it and grabs hold of John’s wrist. He clearly has no intention of letting go any time soon.

‘Hey. How are you feeling?’

‘Top o’ the world. Like an eagle, I’m a fly away.’

John stares at him, and then asks, ‘How much morphine did they give you?’

‘All o’ the morphine,’ Dave replies with a breezy laugh. ‘All o’ it.’

From the door Doctor Carter chips in with, ‘He’s had the normal dose for injuries like his. If I’m honest, I’m surprised he’s awake. Most people take to morphine like we hit them with enough to knock out an elephant.’

‘Motherfucker,’ Dave grins. ‘Motherfucker, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.’

‘Dave! Language!’

Dave exhales loudly with that dismissive tone, and John decides drunk-Dave is better than doped-up-Dave. Drunk-Dave’s harmless compared to this three-year-old.

‘Dave, do you remember what happened?’

One thing about Dave that John has never really understood is the colour of his eyes. When he’d eventually trusted John enough to take his shades off, John had been convinced they were contact lenses because nobody really had red eyes like that without being an albino, and though Dave’s hair was almost white, it was still blond, and he lived in Texas, so he certainly wasn’t an albino. But no, his eyes were naturally red, and the sclera’s had joined the party, giving him a hung-over sort of look. It did, admittedly, bring to mind the few times John had come into contact with James, even down to the heavy lids and unfocused but no less intense gaze.

‘Where’s Jade?’ he asks. ‘Is Jade here?’

John looks at him. ‘No? Why would Jade be here?’

‘Jade should be here,’ Dave asserts, and pouts a little. John has never seen anything quite as terrifying. ‘Jade’s cool.’

‘What about Teri?’

‘Teri can wait. Wanna talk to Jade.’

‘Oh, for. I’ll call Jade when I leave, okay? It might take her a couple of days to get over, it depends on how busy she is with her work. You know she can't just drop everything at a moment's notice.’

Dave pouts some more, but at least pretends to agree with a sullen nod. Oh man, if only John had thought to bring a camera!

‘Are you going to answer my question now? About what you remember?’

‘Aradia’s in a coma,’ Dave supplies, and grins up at him with the kind of vacancy more common on James’ face.

‘Yes, Dave, I know.’

‘Oh. It was the Felt. Big guy. This big.’ He holds his hands perhaps a foot apart. ‘Cans, I think he’s called. Fuckin’ huge.’

John looks back at Doctor Carter, who shrugs.

‘Alright, listen, Dave, I’ll come back in the morning, alright? It’s really late, and me and Karkat have been driving for the last two days, we’re absolutely knackered.’

As expected, Dave pulls a face at the mention of Karkat. ‘Urgh. He still a ginge?’

‘Yes, he’s still ginger. It takes a while for bleach to grow out and Kanaya won’t let him shave it off, says it won’t match his eyebrows. No, shut up, Dave, stop being mean. The point is, Dave, we’re both really tired and could do with some sleep. I’ll call Jade and I’ll come see you again in the morning, alright?’

He huffs and closes his eyes. ‘Don’t care.’

‘Of course you do. How about throwing a sick rhyme together for me whilst you wait, yeah? I haven’t heard one for a while, and you’re like Eminem now. All beat up and shit.’

‘John,’ Dave says. ‘John. John, John, John. You suck.’

John snorts and flips him off. ‘Shut up.’ He goes back to the door, and pauses. ‘Dave, can I ask you a serious question?’

‘Lay it on me.’

‘What were you doing in The Felt’s territory at two in the morning?’

‘Aradia was going to fix my watch,’ is all Dave says, and though John waits for a minute, he gets nothing else, so he says his farewells and leaves.

##### 

##### =>

 

Karkat Vantas is a man used to racist bullshit, and has grown adept at telling people his blood is, at least partially, from the beating heart of Calcutta, and not Baghdad. He’s not sure how much of his blood is Indian, but it’s enough to darken his skin from the pasty white of his father’s into a colour Kanaya had convinced John was called ‘caramel’. Karkat is acutely aware that the first time they met, John thought he was just really tanned. Karkat is also acutely aware that he first met John in the September of 2001 when they happened to be brand new classmates and has had no evidence to disprove his theory formed that day that John is a total idiot.

Being of short stature – he’s 5’4”, which apparently makes him short enough to bully – and of dark skin, he is used to the average prick from the streets picking up the basic details of his appearance and latching on. Never mind that said skin is only a shade darker than John’s and John’s hair is technically darker at pure black to Karkat’s brown – at least, it had been, considering John bleached it and it went fucking _ginger_.

‘Oi!’ comes the all-too-expected shout, and Karkat glares at the ceiling before wheeling round and glaring up at the prick striding over. ‘What are you doing, skulking around here? Looking for somewhere to drop a bomb?’

‘I’m a fucking American, assmouth,’ Karkat snaps, and a mother covers her child’s ears. ‘It’s a free country, I can visit a friend if I want.’

‘Don’t want your types round here.’

Sometimes, Karkat wonders if he has a big flaming sign on his back that says, ‘ _I am a homosexual and at least one-quarter Indian, please feel free to kick me in the teeth_ ,’ because it _keeps happening_.

He is tired, and angry, and in a hurry, and he has precisely zero seconds of his time to spend dealing with this bullshit.

‘What type would that be?’ he asks, and curls his lip.

It’s a challenge to be openly racist in a crowded corridor, and they both know it. If he calls Karkat _anything_ , he’ll be out on his ass, but his pride, Karkat knows, won’t allow the shorter guy to walk off.

In the end, he settles on, ‘Ponce,’ and Karkat nearly sheds a sardonic tear of laughter.

‘You’re an idiot,’ he says, and turns on his heel.

Just for emphasis, he curses in Hindi as he walks away.

As expected, he finds Sollux Captor in the waiting room of the coma ward, in the perfect position to see the door of room 6:12. He’s slouching in the seat, long body spread-eagled, still and vacant. He’s a pasty, lanky guy, only a few months older than Karkat, and calling him by his full name is something Karkat has learnt not to do. Calling him ‘sunshine’ is not much better.

His clothes are rumpled and his shoes, as usual, are mismatched black and white. It’s something everyone who knows Sollux has grown accustomed to, but the particular level of rumpled-ness in Sollux’s jeans and T-shirt suggests he’s been there for at least twelve hours. Karkat really wouldn’t put it past him.

Karkat flops into the seat next to him. ‘Hey.’

‘I should have done something,’ Sollux greets, and spreads his hands. The nails are bitten down to stubs, and the skin torn. ‘There were so many things I could have done.’ Even after all these years, his accent hasn’t changed, though his lisp has improved somewhat.

‘Oh, shut up,’ Karkat scoffs. ‘You couldn’t have done shit. You didn’t know that she was going to be wandering the streets with Strider at two, right? I know you’re a freak, but even you’re usually asleep by then. Soll, listen, there was no way you could have known.’

Sollux closes his eyes and exhales. ‘I suppose you’re right. I just – KK, I can’t just.’

Karkat wishes he knew why he had to have a duality-obsessed bi-polar asshole for a best friend, but says, ‘You’ve been here since you got the call, haven’t you?’ instead.

For a second, Sollux remains silent, but then he nods twice. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I have.’

‘And I’m willing to bet a substantial amount of your money that you haven’t moved. Can you even feel your ass?’

‘I’m kind of scared to move in case I get feeling back.’

‘Right, come on, let’s go. Shitty cafeteria coffee here we come.’

Karkat grabs his best friend’s elbow and hoisted him to his feet. Sollux did, admittedly, have a half-foot on Karkat, but his slouch evened them out a little. Keeping his hand on the hacker’s elbow, he leads him down to the cafeteria and asks for the strongest coffee they could possibly manage to scrounge up from the bottom of the pot, and when he gets it, the lukewarm polystyrene proved it to be as thick as mud and it tasted about the same.

‘Get that down your windpipe,’ Karkat grumbles. ‘I hope you choke on it.’

Sollux snorts, and takes a sip. He screws his face up and then throws it back. When he’s swallowed the last of it, he gasps and says, ‘You’d miss me when I’m gone.’

‘As much as I hate to admit it.’

For a minute they sit there in silence, side by side, Sollux rubbing at a temple and Karkat forcing himself to swallow his coffee.

‘I feel like shit,’ he says, and Sollux leans back against the chair.

‘Join the club.’

‘You’ve been sat on your ass for the last twelve hours, asshole, John and I drove across the country in less than two days to get here.’

‘John let you drive?’ Sollux asks, incredulous.

‘He broke more traffic laws than I did. Yeah, I know, I wish I had a camera to preserve the moment.’

‘You have a video-enabled phone, dipshit,’ Sollux laughs, and shakes his head, but there’s fondness in there. ‘KK, what am I going to do?’

‘Well first, you’re going to get out of this fucking hospital and then I’m going to fill a glass of vodka with sleeping tablets and force you to drink it, and then I’m going to sleep for a whole day, and then we’ll play _Cluedo_.’

‘ _Cluedo_?’

‘We could play _Mouse Trap_ if you prefer. Or _Connect Four_. I’m pretty sure the new edition comes in red and blue.’

Sollux glares at the wall, but he’s smirking a little, around the edges. ‘I hate you so much.’

Karkat’s phone buzzes, and he contorts himself to pull it out of his pocket. He taps the unlock pattern with his thumb as he settles back into the seat and opens the message.

‘Right, come on,’ he says, and elbows Sollux in the ribs. ‘We’re going to Lalonde’s.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Sollux asks, and Karkat looks at him.

‘Sometimes, I forget you’re English,’ he announces, and begins tapping out a text back. ‘And then I remember and hate you just that little bit more.’

They meet John at the front desk, and as he comes to meet him, Karkat tries to remember what the heaviest thing he’s ever carried was, and fails to come up with a plausible weight. John looks like he’s about to drop, all slow and easy and it’s kind of cute, if he wasn’t planning on driving and killing them all.

‘Thank fuck I’m an insomniac,’ he murmurs to Sollux as John turns to fall into step with them.

John slings an arm over Karkat’s shoulders, and he knows he’s doing it more to support himself than he is to be romantic, but he’s not complaining. It makes it very easy to pull the car keys from his back pocket.

He manages to manhandle John into the backseat and buckle him in whilst Sollux takes shotgun and starts fiddling with the GPS. John sighs pleasantly against Karkat’s neck whilst it’s there, Karkat bent double around him to jam the clip together, and Karkat turns his head to raise an eyebrow.

‘What?’ he asks.

‘You,’ John grins, and brushes a kiss against his jawline. Karkat can’t imagine it’s very nice, he hasn’t shaved. ‘Cute.’

‘Fuck you,’ Karkat replies, kisses John’s forehead, and slams the door shut.

By the time he’s climbed into the driver’s seat, John’s face is pressed up against the glass and he’s asleep. He turns in the seat and threads an arm around to pull the glasses from his face before he either hurts himself or breaks them, and slaps Sollux’s hand with his free one.

‘Leave it alone,’ he snaps.

‘I was programming it for Rose’s house!’

‘Just stop messing before you break it.’

Sollux stops rubbing at his knuckles and looks at him. Karkat ignores him, and the Englishman continues to stare. His eyes are blue, but they’re so bloodshot they might as well be red.

Karkat breaks with an exasperated, ‘What?’

‘Me?’ Sollux asks. ‘Me, break technology? Me?’

‘Shut your mouth, asshole.’

Sollux settles to look out of the window, apparently considering himself victor of the battle. Karkat was going to win the war though, so he let him soak in it.

##### 

##### =>

##### 

Rose Lalonde is ready and waiting with a strong shoulder the moment they pull into the gravel drive.

‘This is going to be an entertaining five minutes,’ is the first thing she says as Karkat gets out of the car. ‘John is half a foot taller than us both, and I’m in stiletto heels.’

‘Then take them off.’

‘I’d rather not have a tetanus jab from cutting myself on the gravel if it’s all the same to you,’ she replies with a dignified shake of her head, and waits patiently for Karkat to unbuckle John from the seat. ‘If you even attempt to wake him,’ she warns as he hooks one long arm over his shoulders and she steps in to take the other. ‘I will personally make sure that you are institutionalised for paranoid schizophrenia.’

Carrying someone who has a half-foot in height and what must be at least two stone of muscle on you is harder than it looks, but they manage to haul him step-by-step up the driveway and through the front door. Rose staggers as they deposit the lanky bastard onto one of the couches in the living room, centre of gravity pulled off the thin points of her heels, and she gets it back by kicking them off. John shifts and grumbles, and Karkat threads a hand through his hair, perching on the arm.

‘So,’ Rose says, taking a seat in an armchair probably older than she is.

Sollux takes a seat on the other couch and leans his elbows on his knees.

‘So,’ he repeats.

Karkat rolls his eyes. John remains asleep.

‘Dave has been shot thrice, garrotted with thin wire and is currently delirious with morphine in a hospital bed, whilst Aradia has been induced into a coma from blunt force trauma to the skull. Have we any theories, gentlemen?’

‘Spill the beans, Lalonde,’ Karkat grunts. ‘I don’t have the energy for this _Mickey Mouse_ bullshit.’

She smiles a little, a curl of black lips that makes the rest of her skin look grey. ‘I spoke with John on the phone whilst you two were drinking coffee in the cafeteria, and he told me Dave had identified his attackers as a thug from a local crime syndicate known as The Felt. The man who attacked him is a former professional heavyweight boxer, codenamed “Cans.” If Dave’s identification holds even a grain of truth, which, despite his delirium, I do not doubt, because Dave has never been able to lie to John, not even whilst inebriated, Dave and Aradia may not be safe.’

‘What do you mean, “not safe”?’ Sollux asks.

‘It’s very unlike The Felt to leave a job half-finished, and they never leave someone nearly dead. They will always make sure. Until Dave is coherent, I can’t validate any theory, but I am inclined to believe that they were interrupted. If what John told me is true, Dave and Aradia were merely caught in the crossfire, and therefore the whole event was an interruption.’

Karkat frowns and they are silent for several minutes.

John goes still, and his eyes flicker open. They are very blue eyes, Karkat thinks, the sort of blue a child painted the sky as, though he’d yet to see a day when they matched. Though a little bleary with his impromptu nap and lack of corrective lenses, his expression is sharp as he forces himself upright. His arm goes around Karkat’s hip, though with one foot on the floor, it’s not necessary, and the other rubs at his eyes.

‘Rose,’ he greets with a grin, but he’s poker-faced a moment later.

She tips her head. ‘John. Pleasantries later?’

‘Pleasantries later,’ he agrees. ‘You were talking about The Felt, right? Tell me everything you know.’

Rose leans back in her chair and steeples her fingers. The effect is very dramatic, the light falling in jagged strips across the sharp lines of her immaculate face, and her smile makes her look almost skeletal.

‘Alright,’ she agrees. ‘Where would you like me to begin?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> => Title is paraphrased, but comes from Alkaline Trio's song, 'Calling All Skeletons.' (It's actually, "there's a killer on the corner."  
> => A stone is 14 pounds. You can do the math.  
> => On nationalities: All characters are American citizens and tax-payers so on and so forth. But I can't bring myself to make each and every one of them Caucasian. Taking their surnames where applicable, they will have the appropriate blood to their name; Karkat and Gamzee, for instance, are of Indian descent, whilst Feferi is Portugese and Terezi, Eridan and Tavros are Greek.


	2. Liar, Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They know there are lies, but the question remains as to which lie is the one that matters.

‘Jade?’

‘ _Oh, hey, what is it_?’ She sounds tired, and really, John can’t blame her, it’s pretty late as nights go.

He gnaws at his lip for a moment, wondering if he should have waited for morning. ‘I’ve got some news for you.’

‘ _Karkat’s pregnant_ ,’ she guesses immediately. ‘ _I always knew he was a girl. See, me and Dave, we had a bet on. He owes me money_.’

‘Actually, it’s about Dave,’ John interrupts, knowing if he gives her an edge, it’ll take upwards of ten minutes to shut her up.

‘Dave’s _pregnant? John, I expected better of you_!’ When he doesn’t laugh, she goes so quiet that John has to check to see if the phone’s working. She whispers, ‘ _What about Dave_?’

‘He’s in hospital. Jade,’ he barks when she interrupts with demands. ‘Let me finish. He’s been shot, okay? He’s in hospital because he’s been shot. He’s okay, just tanked on morphine, so he’s pretty out of it, but he’s okay.’ He exhales hard. ‘I can’t say the same for Aradia. She’s in a coma, Jade.’

He has never heard himself so serious when talking to his cousin before. It’s a foreign feeling, and he’s too tired to really give much thought to it.

‘ _What happened_?’ she asks, voice as quiet as his.

John flops into a chair and leans his head back. ‘Don’t know,’ he admits. ‘Dave told me some shit about getting his watch fixed.’

‘ _Dave doesn’t have a watch_ ,’ Jade reminds him. ‘ _He uses his phone for everything_.’

‘Yeah, exactly. That’s why I’m so confused. Rose says she’ll come with me when I go to see him tomorrow.’

Jade makes a soft noise and John can imagine her nodding. ‘ _Alright. How’s Soll_?’

‘Who said anything about Soll?’ John counters.

She scoffs. ‘ _Oh, come on, John! Aradia’s in a coma and you expect me not to think that Soll’s been sitting at her bedside? We have not met, you and I._ ’

‘Oh, shut up. He asked for you, you know.’

‘ _Soll_?’

‘Dave.’

Jade is being awfully quiet tonight, John thinks, and he doesn’t really blame her. It’s a lot to take in, and a late time to do it.

‘ _He asked for me_?’

‘Yup. Practically threw a tantrum about it. Said he wanted to see you and that was final. I mean, he was drugged at the time, but that means something anyway, right?’

Jade sighs heavily. ‘John, I can’t just up and leave! I’m in the middle of a really important project.’

‘You can call Bro to cover your ass for a couple of days, though, right? He’s good with robotics and that nitrogen or whatever it’s called.’

‘John, don’t pretend you understand nuclear engineering, it makes you look like an idiot.’

He huffs.

‘ _Alright_ ,’ she caves. ‘ _Alright! I’ll be there lunchtime tomorrow. When this project blows the fuck out of my house, you can pay for repairs._ ’

‘Jade, seriously, just call Bro to cover your ass, you know he’ll bend over backwards to get you a cure for cancer if you had a cold.’

‘ _John, you aren’t a chemist either, stop embarrassing yourself._ ’

‘You do realise it’s three in the morning, right?’

‘ _Yes_ ,’ she replies. ‘ _I do know. I am very annoyed about it, actually. I was asleep_.’

‘You’re never asleep at three in the morning, you don’t go to bed until lunchtime at the earliest, don’t even lie.’

She scoffs. ‘ _Whatever. Go to bed, derp, I’ll be there at lunchtime tomorrow._ ’

And Jade hangs up on him, just like that.

John stares at the phone for a few moments before shaking his head and sneaking up to bed.

 

**= >**

**  
**

There is always fog, sometimes rising as much as five feet off the ground, having all the appearance of a Hollywood thriller, and all the atmosphere of a silent movie. The side-streets – back alleys and residential roads – they’re always silent, still and empty.

It’s so late it’s early, and the moon is hidden behind quickly approaching rainclouds. It’s not overly cold, but there is a certain bite to the air that is aided and abetted by the fog rising like steam from the tarmac. For an October night, it’s far colder than average, and anybody caught out will be hurrying home as fast as they can.

Two people are taking as leisurely a stroll as they dare, wandering through the back alleys and chatting away without a care in the world. They have nowhere in particular they need to head, except back to where they started, but sometimes it’s just nice to go for a walk, and when you can’t sleep, it’s always nice to have company.

It’s even nicer to have the company of someone who can sympathise.

They are strangers to New York, but they have good memories, and have studied maps and spoken to the locals, and know that the area where they are walking is not the safest area of the city. It is by no means the most dangerous, but it is worth caution all the same. When the light from the streetlamps fade from the side-streets, they slide closer together, fall into step, into breath and time and use the light from their cell phones to keep the shadows at bay.

Where there’s no light, the fog is thicker, and it brings with it a claustrophobic sense of emptiness. They are totally alone and trapped in the dead silence of the night.

Only, they aren’t alone. Not as alone as they have chosen to believe, and they learn that soon enough.

There is the sound of bullets, and there is the crackle of flames burning through wood and plastic and licking at stone. The fog becomes smoke, and a hand catches a wrist in fear.

‘ _Don’t worry. You’ll be okay. Trust me_.’

The bullets ricochet, echoing across the street and filling the silence. Someone screams, female and it’s young, not very old at all, though it sounds older, cracks in a headstone filled in with roses. A body swings round, everything slows down. One, two, three bullets, a male voice shouts instructions – stay down, be quiet, _run_ – and then there is another body, two bodies, locked in battle, throwing themselves into the fray and tearing at clothes and hair, trying to get the upper ground. They are big bodies, tightly corded with muscle, one in green the other in black, and their gangrenous poison is spreading through the air, melted into the smoke and it comes up a choking mess of pain, blood on the tongue and stars in the eyes.

‘ _Run_!’

She tries, but it’s a dream, her body is slow to react and slower still to move, each joint rusted with smoke and blood congealing across her lips as her organs rattle in their cages of bone, and he’s screaming behind her, she can hear it.

Her fingers close tight into a fist, digging into the jagged edges of a broken pocket-watch, the one he gave her to fix, the one they had been talking about. Her vision swims, smoke and water and she staggers, falls. The watch tumbles from her fingers as she opens her hand to break her fall, breaks her nose.

It bounces once, twice, three times, rolls, spins to a stop with the chain rattling at the old sneakers and pulled-up socks of a girl of thirteen. She watches the carnage and watches blood trickle down a throat, spill across the tarmac from livers and ribs and stomachs, equilibrium lost.

Aradia Megido screams, but she cannot wake, trapped in the walls of her own mind.

 

**= >**

**  
**

Jade Harley is unimpressed.

No, she’s more than unimpressed, she’s pretty bloody pissed off.

The first thing she does when she hangs up on her cousin is stomp off to her bedroom and pull her suitcase from under her bed with one hand, the other scrolling her directory.

It rings once, twice, and half way through the third ring, it cuts off and connects.

‘ _This better be good, lil’ lady, I’m in the middle of scoring._ ’

There’s the sound of heavy bass in the background, the skip-skip-skip of a DJ mixing it up. She listens hard for a second, determines that the DJ is shit and comes to the conclusion that Bro Strider has had enough of it for the night. To be honest, she’s surprised he’s even coherent at the moment.

He’s bullshitting about scoring, she knows. He never scores in clubs with shit music. He always ends up fighting with the DJ for the decks and getting his ass put in jail for the night.

‘It _is_ good,’ she says, hesitates, and then tacks on, ‘Big man,’ to the end.

He snorts and gives that high-pitched little giggle she has only ever heard when he is talking to her and her alone. ‘ _Alright, I’m listening. Lay it on me_.’

‘Dave’s been shot.’

He doesn’t miss a beat. ‘ _I know. I knew two days ago. You’re a little slow on the ball today, babe_.’

‘It’s three in the morning.’

‘ _So_?’

She growls and says, ‘Don’t you care?’

‘ _He’s okay, isn’t he_?’ Bro says with an audible shrug. ‘ _I’ve got it on the best authority that he’s okay. If he was in trouble, Jade, I would be there. You know I would_.’

Jade raises an eyebrow, phone tucked between her ear and shoulder as she roots through her drawers for underwear and socks, silently debating how much to take and whether Dave would appreciate the sentiment of her visiting with the Kermit the Frog knickers he bought her for a joke on show.

‘Right,’ she says.

‘ _And yes_ ,’ Bro adds with that insufferable tone he’s fond of using when he’s reading her mind. ‘ _Dave would appreciate the panties_.’

‘Fuck you,’ Jade retorts, but throws them into her case anyway.

He laughs again, and a chair screeches. She turns her eyes to the ceiling.

‘How much have you been drinking?’

‘ _Why do you always assume I’m drinking_?’

She bites out a laugh. ‘You’re in a bar at three in the morning and it’s playing Nicki Minaj. There is no way in hell you haven’t been drinking.’

‘ _Hey, guess what sweetheart_?’

‘What?’

‘ _I played that song just for you_.’

‘Bullshit,’ she calls, and starts rifling for a pair of clean jeans.

‘ _Alright, jokes aside_ ,’ he says, and laughs breathlessly. There’s a dull thump and she sighs. ‘ _Jokes aside, what’d you call for_?’

‘I need your help.’

‘ _Want me to punch Teri in the face? I’ll punch Teri in the face_.’

‘Bro, sit down before you fall down.’ She runs a hand through her hair and sits on the edge of her bed. ‘I’m going to go and visit Dave, because John’s whining at me to go and visit him, but I’m in the middle of a big project.’

‘ _You want me to come and fiddle with your equipment_?’

‘You’re going to get arrested again,’ she retorts, sing-song. ‘But yes, I do.’

‘ _Should leave that for my lil’ bro_.’

‘Grow up. He’s got a girlfriend.’

Bro makes a low, angry noise in the back of his throat. ‘ _Yeah, I know. It ain’t you_.’

‘No,’ she agrees quietly. ‘No, it’s not.’

He sighs heavily, she hears him stagger, and then he says, ‘ _What were you working on_?’

‘That transportaliser. You remember the one my grandfather built? I’m trying to replicate it, but on a more universal scale.’

‘ _You want to teleport to Mars_?’

‘No, I want to teleport into the past.’

‘ _Time travel? Babe, shit’s not safe. Ain’t you never seen the movies_?’

Jade frowns. ‘Movies?’ She shakes it off and says, ‘It’s only a theory. I’m just playing around, but it’s so reactive, I can’t leave it alone for any great period of time. I’m. I’m using uranium.’

Bro has this voice, she thinks. He used to hide his Texan accent when he and his brother lived in Washington, but now he’s back in Houston, he’s let it come back in full force, and he’s always got the slightest slur. It’s emphasised no matter how hard he tries to hide it whenever he drinks anything stronger than that 0.5 shit he bought for the irony of it, but it’s been a long time since Jade heard him so startlingly clear. All traces of Texas are gone from his voice, leaving it smooth, silk and sugar but his consonants have the bitter edge of wit and his vowels are blunt.

‘ _You’re using what._ ’ It’s not even a question.

She licks her lips and swallows. ‘I’m using uranium.’

He’s quiet for about a minute. Jade fiddles with the toggles on her sweater and stares at her feet.

‘ _Jade_ ,’ he begins, and then stops. ‘ _Jade, you’re_.’

‘I’m fine,’ she assures him. ‘I’m taking all the necessary precautions, alright? I know what I’m doing. It’s my job.’

‘ _You’re a student_!’ he snaps, and she flinches. ‘ _You aren’t being fucking paid to do this! This is a fucking hobby! Shit! If something fucking happens to you_!’

‘I’m going to be _fine_!’’ she hisses back. ‘I’ve been monitoring all of my systems, I’ve been keeping a detailed log, you’ll find it on my desk. I’m not experiencing any adverse reactions. I’m no worse than I was when I first moved to Michigan!’

They both fall silent, breathing hard and Jade can imagine him standing there, all six-feet-five of him pulled taut, bones locked and muscles like steel. His jaw will be set, eyes hidden but turned enough to the side to pull his face off-centre. He’ll have his fists clenched, phone close to breaking, and his hair will be a bird’s nest, sticking up at the back and lopsided at the front.

She scratches the nape of her neck.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers. ‘I should have told you.’

He barks a laugh. ‘ _No, it’s. I’m not your father, babe, I can’t tell you what you should be doing. But fuck, girl, keep that diary going while you’re in New York, please, Jesus Christ, keep that diary._ ’

Her whole body relaxes when she exhales softly, eyes closed. ‘Will do.’

‘ _Okay_ ,’ he says. ‘ _Okay. When are you goin’ to head out to see Dave_?’

‘Later today,’ she says. ‘It’s a ten hour drive for me, and 20 for you. You need time to sober up before you get in a car, and I need sleep.’

‘ _You’re assuming I obey traffic laws_.’

‘I’m assuming you’re going to get arrested,’ she replies.

He breathes a laugh, and the warmth of it shocks her as much as it does calm her.

‘For a second there,’ she adds. ‘For one second, I thought you were mad at me.’

Bro snorts. ‘ _As if I could stay mad at you for more than five minutes. Go to bed, sweetheart, I’ll call you when I reach Saint Louis._ ’

‘Missouri?’

‘ _That’s the one. Gives you a good ten hours kip._ ’

‘Alright,’ she nods, and gets to her feet. ‘I’ll talk to you in ten hours.’

‘ _Alright_ ,’ he echoes. ‘ _See you later_.’

He makes a vague noise that sounds something like a kiss and hangs up.

 

**= >**

**  
**

It’s twenty-seven minutes past nine, and Dave Strider is pissed the fuck off. He’s in a ton of pain and John has brought his bloody cousin with him and that is the last thing he needs, thank you very much. Yes, Dave, let’s psychobabble you into abusing the morphine button.

He has to check to see if he’s got one.

He doesn’t, that was a thing invented by cartoonists.

Still, at least Rose had the common decency to pick his shit up from the hotel and bring his aviators.

He doesn’t say thank you though, she doesn’t deserve that much gratitude, just folds his arms and grits his teeth against the pain that rips across his ribs. Fuck getting shot, it’s over-rated.

John hovers for a few minutes, fingers centimetres from Dave’s shoulders, but eventually go to Rose’s as she perches delicately at Dave’s hip, trace patterns across the bare skin at the curve of her collar and ask if she wants coffee.

She says yes please, and gives him this soft smile Dave has only ever seen her give John. Part of him thinks she might be in love with him, but the rest of him knows better. Rose is a sociopath, too caught up in everybody else’s emotional wreckage to have any emotions of her own.

He watches her keep her hands tucked neatly between her folded legs and smile placidly as John leaves the room, and then her face snaps into the cold and clinical mask of a psychologist with a personal vendetta against a diagnosis. He has seen that face numerous times over the years. It isn’t pleasant for anyone.

She turns her head forty degrees, just enough to look her cousin straight in the eye, and she says, clipped and low, no inflection save for the curl of her lip and the sharp bite of her eyes when they turn to him, ‘You’re a liar, Mister Strider. I want you to tell me the truth.’

Dave snorts. ‘Oh, it’s like this is it. I knew you were going to psychobabble me.’

‘No,’ she replies, and her eyebrow twitches. ‘I’m not going to psychobabble you, as you call it. You’re going to tell me what you were doing in Manhattan two nights ago in order to have been shot and garrotted by The Felt and force the staff here to induce a coma.’

‘Aradia?’

‘Yes, Aradia.’ She knits her fingers and cracks her knuckles before setting them in her lap and shifting her weight to face him a little more fully.

She’s incredibly slender, Dave thinks whilst he mulls over what to say. She’ll give him forty-five seconds. Rose is so slender as to be skinny. No, more than that, she’s underweight. She’s wearing a pretty sweater and skirt combo, and he can see her collarbones far more easily than he should. No wonder John bumped his fingers across them, he wasn’t stupid enough to tell her outright to eat, but he wasn’t stupid enough to not notice.

‘What do you want to know?’ he asks after thirty seconds.

‘I want to know why you were anywhere near Felt Manor. I want to know why you aren’t in Texas. I want to know why you came to New York without informing me, deciding to book into a ridiculously-overpriced hotel when you know you have a bed in my home. I want to know why you felt the need to endanger Aradia. I want to know why you haven’t been to Michigan for six months.’

Dave opens his mouth. Closes it. Wishes for morphine and dismisses it. He has answers to all of those questions, but the last throws him. What does that have to do with anything? How does she even know? Why was he asking that question, she knew everything, or knew people who knew everything. It’s not even the fact she’s asked why he hasn’t been to Michigan, it’s the way she threw it in there. No, not that. It’s the way she asked it. The slightest little bit of anger creeping under the state name, the slightest narrow of her eyes when she gave the time period.

He’s really pissed her off, and he knows it.

‘It’s none of your business.’

‘Oh,’ she replies with a nasty little smile. ‘I think it is.’

Dave has no qualms admitting that without their shades Striders are pretty much not intimidating. Dave has glared at himself in the mirror and shoved his face up against it so hard that got a bruise and was cross-eyed for three hours, but it led him to the conclusion that Strider eyes are too soft and too round to be of much use in staring the bad guys down. The red irises are only good for so long, and only good against little children and small rodents. With their shades on, however, nobody can see said eyes, so nobody can read them and call them little girls. The poker face is enough to mean business, and when you don’t know where someone’s looking, you get very nervous, very quickly.

But Rose. Rose doesn’t need shades. She doesn’t need any kind of eyewear. Slap a bit of make up on, black out her lids and the rim of her eyes, her lips and eyebrows and use bamboo foundation, and she’s the ice queen. Literally, sometimes, she’s cold to the touch and has all the sick fires of a polar ice cap.

That is, she will sit there and stare at you until you break, because purple eyes are unnatural as shit and nobody likes being stared at.

Needless to say, Dave is well-versed to Rose’s methods, and knows how best to counter them.

‘Whenever I go to Michigan, she doesn’t want to see me.’

‘That’s a lie, dear cousin. You know she’d drop everything if you went to see her.’

‘Who’s lying now? She has a lot of important work to do, and I can’t interfere with that.’

‘Can’t?’ Rose hums. ‘Or won’t? You do know that your brother is driving the twenty hours it takes to get from Texas to take over for her project just so that she can come and see you whilst you’re recuperating, don’t you?’

‘Why’s she coming?’ he asks, and tilts his chin up so he can frown and Rose can associate it with pain. He shifts for good measure.

‘You asked her to.’

‘When was that?’

‘Yesterday, when John came to visit. Speak of the devil.’

‘It’s decaf with no sugar and a dash of milk, right?’ John asks as he comes back in, all bucktoothed grins and genuine concern.

She smiles and extends a hand. Dave doesn’t miss the way she keeps it moving to hide the shake. ‘Yes, thank you John. Was it busy in the cafeteria?’

‘Oh, no not really,’ he says and flops into the chair against the wall. ‘But Karkat’s gone to see James, so he was just calling to let me know he’d be offline for the next few hours.’

‘Ah, yes, I remember him saying. It is an awfully nice coincidence that you happened to be in New York right now.’

John laughs. ‘I’m sure James would see it that way. He’d call it a miracle.’

Rose smiles beatifically, and Dave doesn’t believe it for a second. ‘He would, wouldn’t he?’ She takes a delicate sip of her coffee, deems it too hot, and holds it carefully, keeping the bottom in her hand to avoid stains to her skirt. Her eyes flick to Dave and then she turns back to John.

‘Dave was just about to explain what happened, John,’ she says.

Dave rolls his eyes. ‘’M tired.’

John is instantly at his side, and Dave almost feels bad. Almost.

He is tired, just not as much as he’d like John and especially Rose to believe. Deceit is an oft-lamented facet of his personality, and he is a master of it. Shame it never really fools anyone, but what the hey.

John’s hand hovers in the air for a second before settling against Dave’s shoulder. ‘You alright, man?’

‘Yeah, just. Tired, y’know? Really knocks you on your back like a whore with a hundred dollar bill, getting shot, know what I mean?’

He feels something tug low in his chest when John gives him this little look he always gives him whenever Dave says something particularly base. He grins though, and looks across him at Rose.

‘Let’s give him a break,’ he suggests. ‘He’s been shot.’

‘No,’ Rose argues as much as she ever does. ‘He’s lying through his teeth, John. He just doesn’t want to admit it, so he’ll put it off as long as he can.’

‘What?’ John asks. ‘No way! Dave wouldn’t do that.’

‘He would,’ Rose replies, getting to her feet. Her heels clack against the linoleum, and from the way John flinches, Dave knows he isn’t the only one to think it sounds like bones breaking. ‘And he is. He’s a liar, John. If you want to give him a break, feel free. But I am coming back, and I am getting answers, and I will bring Jade with me to make sure I get them.’

She turns on her heel and slams the door on her way out. John winces and glances at Dave. Dave shrugs.

‘What did you _do_?’ John breathes. ‘She hasn’t been that angry for _months_.’

‘I may or may not have not visited Jade for six months,’ Dave admits with a negligent tilt of his head. ‘And she tried to psychobabble me into submission.’

‘God,’ John sighs. ‘And I was convinced Karkat had the most dysfunctional family out of all of us.’

Dave’s silent for a few minutes, and then eventually inhales. ‘John?’

‘Huh? What is it?’

He sighs, and slides further down into his bed. ‘She was right. Rose, I mean. I am lying. I’m lying about a lot of shit, but most of it’s not important.’

‘Dave, I don’t understand.’

‘Me and Aradia. We. We didn’t happen to stray onto Felt territory, we went there deliberately.’

‘You. Went there. Deliberately?’

‘Well, yeah, we knew that they were there, everybody knows where Felt Manor is, right? But we didn’t think much of it, y’know, it’s just there. We didn’t think they were going to go all out gung-ho on us and start firing guns and punching the shit out us. I mean, shit, who expects that?’

‘You walk onto gangland territory,’ John begins, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘You just, go there without a care in the world, and you don’t expect that they’re not going to be happy? Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Dave, you should know better by now!’

‘Who died and made you Dad?’ he snaps back before he can stop himself. He bites his tongue, but John’s already given him a withering look.

‘Dave, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t had the brain cells of a complete and total dickprince! That is to say; none.’ He rakes his hands through his hair and sighs again. ‘I mean, bloody hell, a little warning would have been nice! Oh, by the way, I’m wandering onto the turf of the most dangerous gang in New York, who are known to kidnap and torture their enemies to death, let alone people who happen to look at them funny. Because torture’s such a game, Dave! It’s so fucking funny, isn’t it? Aradia’s in a coma and you almost bled to death because you didn’t have the common sense to – oh my god.’

There is a horrible sinking feeling in Dave’s stomach, and he knows what’s coming. ‘What?’

‘You’re. Oh my god, I can’t believe you. I honest to God, can’t. No, no I’m not dealing with this.’

Dave blinks. ‘What are you on about?’

‘That’s why you booked into the hotel, isn’t it? So no one would – if you’d stayed at Rose’s. Oh my God, Dave, can’t you just.’

‘ _What_?’ Dave snaps.

‘You’re sleeping with Aradia again, aren’t you?’

He bursts into laughter, incredulous and horrified as much as he is amused. ‘I have a brief fling with someone for three months, and everybody automatically assumes I’ll get back into bed with them just because we’re in town at the same time.’

‘That’s the situation with Vriska, isn’t it?’ John asks, and there is something close to hurt in his voice, but it’s closer, Dave thinks, to anger.

‘The situation with Vriska is tedious and extremely overcomplicated,’ Dave replies with a hand wave. ‘Whatever, it was Teri’s fucking idea.’

‘That’s no excuse, Dave! You’re regularly sleeping with my goddamn ex, whilst dating my boyfriend’s ex, and oh yeah, breaking my cousin’s heart all the way.’

Dave watches him. John glares, fists clenched. He’s such a kid sometimes.

‘Close the door on your way out,’ is all he says, and the slam John leaves him with rattles his bones and makes the bullet holes ache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuq u holly imma be adorbs all day.
> 
> This chapter guise, this chapter.
> 
> Also; there is now a tumblr waiting for me to not be an ill waste of space and finish the bios so I can upload them: http://killerstuck.tumblr.com I'll post the bios as the characters appear. Wait, does this mean I need to draw Bro? Shit.


	3. Philosophies and Theories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A threat is made, a player takes his stand.

It’s very easy to forget that James Makara is a murdering psychopath. No wait, that’s harsh. It’s very easy to forget that James Makara’s mother carried him to term addicted to heroin and despite being raised clean and tidy, James followed in her footsteps as soon as he found his first dealer. It’s also very easy to forget that his psych-report has labelled him as a bi-polar schizoaffective.

It is virtually impossible, however, to forget that he murdered two people in cold blood because Tavros Nitram had made a passing comment about smoking in the hotel. James had proceeded to convince himself that this meant he was to go cold turkey and stop using altogether.

Bad idea. Worst mistake.

If Karkat were anyone else, he reasons that he would probably be terrified of sitting across a table from James, face-to-face with greasepaint smiles and unblinking eyes. He’s a lumbering mass of flesh and bone, six-foot-three and one-hundred-and-thirty pounds, and as long as he’s taken his mood stabilisers and anti-psychotics and they’ve measured his heroin intake, he’s about as threatening as ever, which is to say; not very. Karkat supposes that having grown up with the lanky bastard, any edge he might have had is pretty much rounded off.

James sits there with a lazy smile and a lazier attitude.

‘Hey,’ he drawls.

‘Yes, hello. For the fifth time,’ Karkat replies. ‘If this is going to be the gist of our conversation, I’m going to call it quits and go home, alright?’

James pouts. ‘Aw, but best bro, you only just got here.’

‘Hallelujah!’ Karkat crows. ‘He remembers how to speak English! It’s a _motherfucking miracle _!’__

His brother gnaws on a grey lip for a second before saying, slowly, and with caution to avoid stumbling over words he rarely says anymore, ‘I could talk in Hindi, if you want. Language of our forefathers, y’know? Motherfuckers got all up and made their own tongue, ain’t it sweet?’

‘Where the fuck did you learn the word “forefathers”?’ Karkat replies, but it’s a delayed response, and likewise, he’s reverted back to his native language. It’s odd after speaking in nothing but English for over a decade, but there’s something close and familial about it.

The older man waves a bony hand at a pile of books. ‘S’all there,’ he shrugs. ‘Philosophy, brother. Where it’s motherfucking at. Better than that there romance novel you’re writing.’

‘Hahaha,’ Karkat snarls. ‘Fuck you. I told you to drop that.’ He pauses and then tacks, ‘Stop swearing, you sound like an idiot,’ onto the end.

‘But I am, brother. We’re all idiots up in here.’ He taps his temple with one finger. ‘It’s all wrong. Need to get our understanding on, y’know? Need to learn where we came from, who we all up and are.’

Karkat grumbles under his breath. ‘Yes, well. I know who the fuck you all up and are.’

James pulls a face, and Karkat would pay good money to know how he managed to make his painted smile frown. ‘Don’t be so mean, brother. Bad for your inside bits.’

Talking to James is a lot like talking to a brick wall, Karkat thinks, only a brick wall gives you better conversation, since it doesn’t talk bullshit.

‘I’m getting personality lectures off of a man who can’t even spell his own name.’

‘Can too.’

‘James, there is no Z in your name. Nor is there a G and two Es. You got two letters right last time I saw you write it down.’

‘Gotta write it how it feels natural. ‘Sides, you spell yours wrong too.’

‘No, James, no. Mama dropped the last A when she named me. I spell my name right.’

James flips him off. His wrist cracks. ‘Not what I was going to say.’

‘If you say, “Karkles”, “Crabsnack”, “KK” or “Beep Beep Meow”,’ Karkat scowls, ticking the names off on his fingers as he grits them out, ‘I am going to punch that smile down your shit-spewing throat.’

To which James replies with a huff, throwing himself back against the chair. ‘Well, ain’t you a whole motherfuc- a whole bunch of fun.’

‘I’m not here to have fun,’ Karkat reminds him. ‘I’m here because you’ve been institutionalised because you’re a raving lunatic and it’s my job as your brother to make sure you’re not dead yet.’

‘Fun-sucker,’ James reiterates as though Karkat’s just proved his point.

‘Why do I put up with you?’ he asks blandly, shaking his head a little.

‘You’re not sleeping right,’ James counters, and Karkat rolls his eyes.

‘I’ve been busy the last few days, had a lot of shit to take care of.’

James taps bitten down nails against the table top. It sounds vaguely like a circus theme, but it’s out of time and stilted. ‘So much to see,’ he hums. ‘All out there in the big wide world. S’all there, waiting to be found. Things left us by our ancestors, for us to leave, tokens, like. Voodoo charms like in the tribes.’

There is a dull clunk in the back of Karkat’s mind as the penny drops. It rattles for a moment as Karkat thinks, and then he says, ‘Strider’s watch.’

James smiles blankly. ‘What about it?’

‘I’ll – I’ll be right back.’

‘Okay, best friend.’

Karkat shoves away from the table and darts for the exit, already turning his phone back on. They used to take it off him, but sometimes it’s the only way to give James a chance to talk to Tavros, and it always helps when he’s being a particular bastard. Once in the entrance, he pulls up John’s number and hits the green button.

John is pissed off, Karkat can hear it, but he keeps his temper.

‘ _Karkat? Are you done already_?’

‘No, no, I just – you know what the bastard’s like, doesn’t realise – John, was there a watch?’

‘ _What_?’

‘Strider said Aradia was going to fix his watch, right?’

‘ _Yeah_.’ Sometimes Karkat wonders if John is obtuse just to be an asshole.

‘Well, was there one? Was there a watch?’

‘ _I don’t know_.’

‘What do you mean, _you don’t know_?’

John starts to curse, but bites it down and snarls, ‘ _I didn’t get around to asking_.’

Karkat frowns at a leaflet stapled to the wall. ‘What did he say?’

‘ _He’s sleeping with Aradia again_.’

‘He’s _what _? Are you fucking shitting me?’__

There’s a rustle of hair. ‘ _No. No, Karkat, I’m not. I’m. Shit._ ’

‘Okay, I want you to go and find the doctor that’s responsible for Strider and tell him to give him my love in the form of the nastiest STD test he can find.’ He clears his throat. ‘Ask the doctor about the watch, John, we have to know if there was one there.’

‘ _Okay_ ,’ John replies. ‘ _I’ll ask. I – should I tell Soll _?’__

‘No,’ Karkat orders. ‘Don’t you dare. Just leave it alone, John, let me deal with that.’

‘ _Alright, see you later_.’

‘Later.’

He hangs up, turns on his heel, and heads back to his brother.

 

**= >**

 

Routine is a thing that happens to Sollux Captor. It is a thing that happens to him every second of every day of his life. He has his set routine, and disruption from that routine will, without fail, have him pulling at his hair and cursing Karkat out in increasingly indecipherable text messages. This is more because he got the ‘I’ key on his BlackBerry stuck than any great impatience with his typing skills.

That, and it amuses him far too much to annoy Karkat to think about getting it fixed.

His routine, of course, centres around his girlfriend of ten years, Aradia Megido, who is responsible for pretty much most of his life, and though Karkat will call him ‘whipped’ and any other variety of names regarding his genitalia and perceived lack thereof, Sollux likes it that way. It gives him space to think, knowing that Aradia’s got it covered. Okay, it puts a bit of pressure on her, but she’s too used to his bullshit now to have the slightest reaction to his temper tantrums anymore.

Six nights out of seven, he won’t crawl into bed until the early hours, where Aradia will have fallen asleep with a book, reading glasses half-off her face and pages creased. He’ll put her marker in place and set the book on her bedside table, slide the lenses off her nose and fold them, placing them atop the book, and he’ll stand there for a moment, watching her sleep. She’ll shift, without fail, towards his side of the bed, and he’ll climb in, routine enough that he’s there in time for her to throw an arm over him and wedge herself against his side.

Some nights he’ll go to bed earlier, some nights she’ll stay up later and that works, too.

She’ll wake him up in the morning with a cup of coffee (on nights he’s pissed her off, she’ll pour it on him and he deserves that, he knows he’s an asshole) and any post that’s arrived for him. He’ll pull his laptop from under the bed and get to work. On Sundays, she’ll climb back into bed next to him and return to her reading. At half-past seven, she’ll swing herself onto his lap, careful to avoid sitting on the keyboard, and kiss him senseless. Grinning, she’ll disappear to work, and he’ll stay in bed for another ten minutes before saving, closing the lid, and heading for a shower.

At eight, he’ll be hard at work, playing hours’ worth of solitaire and minesweeper and hey, he’s paid to piss around, it’s not like programming’s hard, and he’ll break where appropriate until five-thirty, when Aradia swings through the door with whatever they needed hanging from one arm.

Not to say Sollux never does the groceries, Aradia forces him to do it on Wednesday afternoons, because those are her free afternoons.

He pulls the fridge door opens, and checks the date on the milk. Sighing, he hooks his fingers into the fold of the top and tosses it into the bin. He rakes his hands through his hair and backs the fridge door shut, standing against it for a few moments before turning and opening it again. He looks accusingly at the bottle of _Dr Pepper_ lying on one shelf, and then shrugs and nabs it. Someone’s got to drink it.

Aradia’s computer is one of five in the apartment. Sollux has three of them. He still doesn’t know who’s the fifth is, but he thinks it’s probably Tavros’, because apparently that’s a thing that happens whenever he spends any length of time with Aradia. To be fair though, Sollux thinks, dropping into his chair and wheeling it with one foot across the length of the living space to get to the battered old desktop in the corner, an ancient thing she’s had since her early teens, but living with Sollux means free maintenance. He is also aware that sleeping with him equals free upgrades to handmade hard drives she still calls rams like the sheep, but he lets both go because Aradia. Aradia is why.

Her password has been the same for the last five years, and her wallpaper too. He still has no idea who that douchebag is, but he apparently is someone Aradia’s fond of. Whatever, it’s not really his business either way.

Whilst he waits for the background processes to stop wasting his time, he drums his fingertips on the keyboard and frowns at the chips in his nail polish. He’ll have to persuade Kanaya to redo it before Aradia wakes up, can’t have her knowing he’s biting at them again.

‘Where to begin?’ he hums to himself when it’s done loading, and decides her email is as good a place as any.

He logs in and blinks a little at the green colour scheme she’s chosen. He flicks through the new emails and deletes the junk; online store promotions and service provider bollocks, the usual things nobody ever reads. He knows she doesn’t read them, there are fifty others unread in her deleted box.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it for the moment and continues going through.

Eventually, he finds something from an unknown sender. It’s not something he’s familiar with, but he supposes it is possible to white out your email address.

It contains a poem, and when he says it out loud, it feels like a badly-written nursery rhyme. It takes him a few moments to place it, but he does, and sits there staring at it.

> _She was wrong in the head,_   
> _So pretended to be dead,_   
> _Such a shame she fell down,_   
> _The Maid of Time._

He tries to forward it to himself, but a pop-up tells him access is denied. He stares at it. It does nothing. He tries again, and is met with the same response. He tells the provider to kiss his ass, takes a screenshot, and emails it to himself.

It’s only as it refreshes after sending that he realises she replied.

Sometimes, Aradia is an idiot.

> **From:** apocalypseArisen@pestermail.net
> 
> **To:**
> 
> **Subject:**

> I don’t know who you are, but I want you to leave me alone. It wasn’t funny the first time, and it isn’t funny now. Just leave me alone, and don’t send me another white text reply, it looks ridiculous.
> 
> I don’t care who you think you are, I’m not going to back down, and no amount of white text threats is going to stop me.
> 
> So you’ve changed your text colour now? All that’s done is let me know which group of idiots I’m dealing with.
> 
> Feel those sick burns, Mister White Text Guy.
> 
> Feel them and leave me.
> 
> The.
> 
> Fuck.
> 
> Alone.

Sollux stares at the computer screen, pulls his feet up onto the chair and rests his chin on his knees. After a few moments of staring, he pulls his phone from his pocket, scrolls his directory, and hits dial.

‘Hey,’ he says when it connects.

The sound of water greets him. ‘ _Hey! Is something the matter? It’s not like you to call while you’re working_!’

‘I just. Needed someone to talk to.’

A door clatters, and then the sound of water fades. ‘ _Are you alright_?’

‘No,’ he admits. ‘No, I don’t think I am.’

‘ _Sollux, talk to me. Tell me what’s happened_.’

‘Aradia’s in a coma. I think she went and picked a fight with The Felt. Strider’s in hospital ‘cause he got shot, and I’m sat here, looking at Aradia’s computer, and I think she was being threatened.’

‘ _Threatened? By The Felt_?’

‘I don’t know, but that’s how it looks.’

The door clatters again, and there is a brief argument in a language he doesn’t speak. There is the squeak of skin on wet tiles and then another door slams.

‘ _Sorry_ ,’ comes the apology.

‘It’s alright,’ he replies, and closes the window, opening up her bank’s internet page instead. ‘I don’t get why she’s picking fights. Why she didn’t say anything.’

‘ _It’s not like her_.’ A soft hum and then, ‘ _Dave got shot_?’

‘Apparently so.’

‘ _What about Teri and Jade? How are they_?’

‘Not a clue. Karkat said John told him that Dave was pitching a fit about seeing Jade, you know how it is.’

‘ _Wow, if I’d known it would take him getting shot to start showing emotion, I’d have done it myself. He’s been stringing that girl along for ten years_.’

Sollux shrugs. ‘Not really my business what he does.’ He’s silent for a few minutes, and then sighs. ‘Fef, what do I do?’

Feferi Peixes says nothing for a minute. He listens to her feet pad on the tiles, and then the metallic clatter of her slamming locker doors. There’s a rustle of fabric and then she says, ‘ _Soll, you have to keep a clear head. Getting all worked up over this will do nothing to help. What are you doing right now_?’

‘I’m in the flat,’ he tells her. ‘I’m on Aradia’s computer.’

‘ _Alright, stay there, and I’ll come over_.’

He groans. ‘No, don’t do that.’

She makes an indignant noise. ‘ _And why not_?’

‘Because that fucking douche’ll follow you and I don’t want him in my place.’

‘ _Soll_?’

‘What.’

‘ _Get over yourself. I’ll be there in half an hour_!’ She blows him a kiss and hangs up.

‘Fuck you, too,’ he tells the silence on the other end, and throws his phone on the couch.

 

**= >**

 

_‘The Felt are a crime syndicate not unlike the Mafia, only our Mediterranean cousins have a much stricter code regarding honour. The Felt have no such code, and have little in the way of morals. The first news records of them date back twenty, twenty-five years, I forget exactly when it was, but long enough ago that we were born under their stars. They’re considered untouchable for the better part, either way, so really, it makes little difference when exactly they came to exist. Everything I’m about to tell you is speculation; things I’ve learnt and heard, theories and assumptions made with the information given to me by the hearsay of the general populace. That is to say; it’s highly likely to be inaccurate._

_‘The Felt is comprised of fifteen members in total, with a sixteenth in command. Each has his own style – there’s no regular signature with this family, not as there is with normal families. Can I call the Mafia normal? You take my point, either way, I’m sure. Their signature is personalised to their own specially-tailored method. Some prefer brute force – you say that Cans attacked Dave and Aradia? I don’t doubt it, brute force is something of Cans’ speciality, so they say anyway. There’s been no mention of an incident in the papers, so I wouldn’t be surprised to know they’ve bought them off. They’re already suspected of buying the police off. Unfortunately, any who have crossed them don’t tend to live long enough to squeal to the police. Those who do definitely don’t survive long enough to get word out of the state of our Police Chief’s pocket._

_‘On the whole, fourteen of the members are to be considered as being below-average intelligence. They take their orders from eight and sixteen, though the mess they make of their crime scenes – fires and blood baths, bullet shells, destroyed cars and buildings and dead bodies – implies that they leave little in the way of instruction for them. “Go here, do this, get back.” That is about the length of their instruction. I’m ad-libbing of course; I have never interacted with The Felt myself. I should like to, though; an insight into the tangled mess of their psyches would be something I could use in my phD and not get too bad a grade from it. There are people who know The Felt and know them well, but getting them to talk is proving somewhat – arduous._

_‘From what I have learnt over my time in New York City – this is considered public knowledge, you understand, anyone who has lived here for the minimum of a year will know at least something about The Felt – there are two members to be considered dangerous, if not extremely so. First is Number Eight. They call her ‘Snowman’, though I couldn’t tell you why. Word is she’s a somewhat vicious member of the fairer sex, but her prerogative seems to be more inclined towards keeping her syndicate in line rather than causing trouble of her own. You could ask me what kind of trouble she has been in, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you. There was rumour that a decade ago, she stabbed a man in the eye with a cigarette holder, but I couldn’t give you a yay or nay as to its truthfulness._

_‘I wish I had knowledge of the sixteenth member of The Felt. I honestly do, but all I know is allegedly it’s a male in his forties. Some pathetic troglodyte began talking rot about the true nature of the record shop on 43rd, but I’ve heard nothing else to the effect. I did discover a paper, in the course of my undergraduate research, on the psychological effects predestination and the failure to change the course of fate might have on teenagers by someone labelled only as DS, but I called Dave’s brother, and he told me he thought it would be funny.’_

_‘That. That sounds like Bro.’_

_‘Yes, that’s why I had no reason to doubt his claim of penmanship. I wish there was more I could tell you, John, I really do, but my knowledge is severely lacking. There just isn’t anything on them. Everything that should be there has presumably been deleted by their bribes and threats.’_

_‘Do you know anything about Cans?’_

_‘Nothing substantial. I know he was a former professional heavy-weight boxer; he could quite easily punch someone into next week from the strength of their concussion alone. He was forcibly removed from the boxing circuit five years ago after pummelling his opponent to death. The_ New York Times _said he had already been on his last warning after hospitalising three others, and he’d been suspended for a year for a dangerously high intake of performance-enhancing drugs.’_

_‘He sounds like an idiot.’_

_‘He is an idiot. We can talk more in the morning, all three of you look as though you’re about to fall asleep.’_

_‘And what are you going to do, Rose? Force yourself to throw up the minute we’re all upstairs?’_

_‘Don’t keep bringing that up, it was my lowest moment in my school career.’_

_‘When was the last time you ate anything that wasn’t liquefied?’_

_‘My eating habits are not your concern, John. I would advise you to go to bed if you want to see my cousin in the morning.’_

_‘But, Rose!’_

_‘Bed, John.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the advice of StarHost's friends, I'm making a note about Soll: To non-British readers, things he says might read weird. This isn't, at least deliberately, my fault. I write him as I know the English to speak, and I know British-English and American-English differs somewhat. If I think there's something that is glaringly different, I'll try to make a note of it. If I don't, feel free to let me know!
> 
> That said; I hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> Also; I'VE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH HTML FORMATTING. IF SOMEONE CAN MAKE IT WORK PLEASE HELP ME OUT BECAUSE IT. WON'T. DO. IT.


	4. Tic-Tac-Toe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feferi makes a decision, and questions are raised.

‘Was that Captor?’ 

‘Yes. Could you get out of my way, please? I’m trying to get dressed.’ 

‘Sorry. What did he want?’ 

‘None of your beeswax! All you need to know is that Aradia’s been in an accident and I’m going to keep him company.’ 

‘Ara’s been in an accident? What does that mean? Fef, don’t ignore me!’ 

‘God damn it, Eridan! I’m getting dressed, will you give me five minutes?’ 

As if to hammer her point home, Feferi Peixes tosses the top half of her swimsuit over the stall door. It was a rough throw, so of course it misses, but it gives him something to think about. Eric Daniel Ampora has a great deal to think about already, but Feferi is damn good at making him focus on one thing at a time; in this case, that off-handed bit of news. 

‘What kin – ‘ He cuts himself off and takes a seat on the bench to wait for her. 

It only takes a few minutes for her to be not-naked, and he does up the buttons at the back of her top whilst she tightens the straps on her shoes. It’s something he always does, a habit developed to economise on time after swimming lessons when they were younger carrying into adulthood. 

‘What did you undo it for?’ he asks as he refastens the eighth button. ‘You don’t need to.’ 

‘I didn’t want my hair to wreck it. I think the dye’s running again.’ 

‘Looks alright to me,’ he tells her, and pats her waist when he’s done. 

‘Thank you – for the buttons and the back-handed compliment.’ She smiles though, so he counts it as genuine. 

‘Alright,’ he says, and offers her his arm. She takes it without hesitation, and they head for the exit. ‘What’s all this noise about Ara?’ 

‘Apparently,’ Feferi says, unable to stop herself from sounding even remotely like a conspirator, and Eridan is abruptly reminded that she’s a terrible gossip. ‘She and Dave got attacked? Soll wasn’t making much sense.’ 

‘When does he ever?’ 

She slaps his arm. ‘Be nice! He doesn’t want you to come with me, you know.’ 

He snorts unhandsomely. ‘Well, he can fuck off. It’s part of my job description to stay with you, you know.’ 

She rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. Well, can you at least be on your best behaviour? For me? He’s not going to be the most sufferable right now, and I really don’t need you antagonising him, alright?’ 

‘When am I ever not on my best behaviour?’ he counters, and she looks across at him. 

‘Every single birthday party I’ve ever had since I was sixteen comes to mind. Prom comes to mind. Last Thursday when I went out to lunch with him comes to mind.’ 

‘Alright, alright,’ he gripes. ‘That’s enough of that.’ 

She grins across at him, and pulls him to a stop, flinging her free arm up to hail a cab. 

=>

Sollux sits in his chair, legs pulled up to his chest with his chin on his knees, and stares at the screen. He gnaws at his thumbnail, and ignores the taste of the red polish that comes free. He sits as patiently as he ever does, back knotted and shoulders tight with nerves, waiting for Feferi to show up. He knows Eridan will be tagging along, because he always tags along, and he’s given up pretending like it matters. The bastard can do what he likes, and Sollux will just work around him like he always works around everyone. 

Especially Karkat, who on no less that twelve separate occasions has forced Sollux’s computer to implode in on itself, gain a blue screen and screech in agony. Neither of them is still precisely sure just what he did to make it crash the way it did, but Karkat is officially banned from using any technology when he visits. Which is never. 

Exactly thirty-three minutes after Feferi hung up on him, the doorbell to the Captor-Megido flat trills. And then trills again. It gets pressed down on the third ring, and Sollux heaves a sigh, going to the buzzer to let them in. He unlatches the door whilst they’re coming up the stairs, and goes back to his chair. Feferi makes a beeline for him the moment she’s through the door, flinging her bag under the table and throwing her arms around him. 

He winces. 

‘Sollux!’ she chides, and prods at his neck and shoulders. ‘Out of the chair, come on.’ 

He does as he’s told, and she drops the couch cushions onto the floor and points. He sits, and she kneels behind him. Eridan shuts the door with his heel and makes an abortive noise. Sollux sees him wince and guesses that Feferi has just sent him a death glare. He can get behind that, but her grip on his shoulders is too firm and working wonders and he’s not really thinking about Eridan anymore. 

‘How much sleep have you gotten since Aradia’s accident?’ she asks him. 

He raises an open hand and teeters it. ‘Enough.’ 

‘Bullshit,’ Eridan says, because Feferi won’t. Sollux glares at him. ‘We know you too well, Soll, you ain’t got more than seven hours sleep in the last forty-eight, no way.’ 

He shuts his eyes and slouches back into Feferi’s hands. ‘Fuck you too,’ he sighs. 

Feferi digs her nails in. ‘Boys.’ 

‘Sorry,’ they chime in unison, and both sound about as apologetic as the other. They’re both lying. 

Sollux can feel her eyes on the back of his head, but he ignores her reproach and settles. She puts up a fight against his back, and eventually wins, his muscles burning, but loose enough not to hurt. She gives his shoulders one last squeeze, and goes to sit on the couch. He swivels to face both her and Eridan, and leans back against the coffee table. 

‘So,’ she starts, and folds her legs up under herself delicately, leaning back against the arm Eridan’s flung over the back of the couch, and watching him carefully. ‘First thing’s first. Aradia’s in a coma and Dave’s been shot.’ 

‘Yes.’ Sollux can’t really see if there’s a point to any of this, but he supposes she just needs clarification. 

‘And John and Karkat have come down to check up on Dave and you respectively?’ 

‘Yes?’ 

‘It’s a two day long drive, Sollux Captor,’ she tells him, anger creeping in at the very edges, thickening her accent and diluting her vowels. ‘Which means the latest this accident could have happened is the twenty-fifth. Why, might I ask, did you not call me sooner?’ 

He flinches, and gives Eridan a dirty look when the bastard grins at him. ‘I was.’ 

‘You were messing around with your thumb up your backside, that’s what you were doing, Soll! I bet you called Karkat as soon as you found out.’ 

‘Yeah,’ he admits, and looks at his odd socks. 

‘Even though I live literally ten minutes away from the hospital.’ 

‘It was really early in the morning,’ Sollux mumbles. ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’ 

‘That has _never_ stopped you before. Not once. I can understand that you wanted to call your best friend, Soll, I get that, if something happened to you or anyone else, I’d be straight on the phone to Nepeta. But I would make sure _Eridan_ knew _first_ , because he’s the closest to me. I’m the closest to you in terms of commuting distance, Soll, I should have known first. Aradia matters to me, too.’ 

Sollux sits in silence. 

‘Does anyone else know? Besides us, John, Karkat and Rose?’ 

‘Jade,’ Sollux says. ‘Maybe Teri.’ 

‘I think we should let everybody else know too,’ she tells him. ‘It’s only fair that they know. It’s only fair that Equius knows, you know how he gets when we don’t tell him anything.’ 

‘He’s just going to get all fuckin’ huffy and start swearing in another language,’ Eridan butts in. ‘It’s what he always fuckin’ does. It’s what he did when John didn’t tell him about his tattoo for two fuckin’ weeks.’ 

‘No, that was because John thought getting a tattoo on his hip was a really clever idea,’ Sollux corrects. ‘Especially since he’d only been seeing Karkat for about seven months. I think Equius wanted a wedding before any body art showed up.’ 

‘Boys,’ Feferi chides, and looks up at the ceiling. ‘We are not having another debate about John’s tattoo. It’s not anyone’s business but his and Karkat’s.’ 

They fall silent for another few moments. 

Feferi is, of course, the first to break it. 

‘Tell me properly what happened.’ 

‘To Aradia?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

Sollux spreads his hands and blows his fringe from his eyes. ‘I wish I knew properly, Fef. I really do, but I don’t get it. She received an email, from a sender I can’t trace – I’ve tried, Fef, really I did, but I just haven’t been able to get any kind of response from anything. From the way she snapped at them, it’s not the first she’s been sent. I’ve gone through her folders, but she’s deleted them all. I’m running her external hard drive now and hoping they’re still on there.’ 

‘Does she know who’s emailing her?’ Eridan asks, and he looks a little concerned. Sollux doesn’t miss the way the hand by Feferi’s shoulder twitches, curls closer and then digs into the fabric of the seat. 

‘She didn’t say outright, but she said that he was emailing her in green, which he had, and that only “one group of idiots uses that colour”. It’s not too big a leap.’ 

‘The Felt?’ Eridan’s look is disbelieving, and Sollux doesn’t much blame him. 

‘It fits with what Dave said,’ Sollux agrees. ‘He said they were attacked by Cans.’ 

‘Is that how Aradia - ?’ Feferi cuts herself off, frowning a little. 

‘I don’t see any reason to doubt it. I just – I don’t understand why they’d be threatening her, you know? What has she ever done to them?’ 

‘Couldn’t have it just been wrong place, wrong time?’ 

‘Karkat doesn’t think so.’ 

‘Karkat’s a paranoid, melodramatic ass,’ Eridan reminds him. ‘And those are your words.’ 

‘Oh, shut the fuck up. John agrees with him. According to Karkat, Dave’s being an insufferable prick. We’ll have to wait for a couple of days to know what they were doing in Felt territory.’ 

‘Why a couple of days?’ 

‘Jade’s coming down to talk to him.’ 

Eridan whistles through his teeth. ‘I would pay good money to be in that room when she gets her teeth in.’ 

Feferi scoffs. ‘You’d pay good money to be on a flight back to Greece to avoid that room,’ she corrects, and leans forwards to reach a hand to Sollux. ‘Soll,’ she says when he takes it. ‘It’ll be okay.’ 

‘Rose thinks they’re not safe. Dave or Aradia.’ 

‘How do you mean?’ 

Sollux opens his mouth, but Eridan’s phone begins to ring. 

The Grecian looks a little sheepish. ‘Excuse me.’ 

Both Sollux and Feferi watch him go, and then Sollux relaxes. 

‘Jesus Christ,’ he sighs. ‘Could you perhaps tone it down?’ 

‘Huh?’ 

‘You and him. You’re not even dating, and you’re being all mushy and cute and it really makes me want to barf.’ He rubs at his eyes. ‘You do realise you just sat there with his arm around you, don’t you?’ 

She blinks at him, gaping like a fish. ‘I did that? That was a thing that I did? I didn’t realise. I just sat down. Are you sure he didn’t,’ she trails off, and fiddles with her hair. 

‘His arm was there first. Just, Christ, Fef, talk to Karkat about it, I really – don’t want to know about it. At all.’ 

‘Sorry,’ she says, and looks at him from under her eyelashes. 

‘Don’t give me that look,’ he snaps, and then sighs. ‘Sorry. I just. Miss her. So much, and it’s only been two days.’ 

Feferi slides off the couch and tangles her legs with his, taking his hands and rubbing her thumbs over his nails. ‘Soll, I understand. It’s okay, and I don’t mind. I’ve had you snap at me worse than that. I can take it.’ 

He sighs again, and whispers, ‘There’s something else.’ 

‘Huh? What is it?’ 

‘When I was on her computer, I was looking at her bank records – I thought maybe she’d got into financial trouble or something. I mean, she never said anything about it, and I never noticed a difference, but she’s got a good poker face now, so I don’t know, I guess I thought I’d look. And it’s weird – there’s nothing _unusual_ about it, but there’s something definitely wrong. I just don’t know what.’ 

Feferi tilts her head. ‘Are there any names that aren’t normally there?’ 

‘There’s a few payments from her account to Equius for the work he did for her back when she was doing that piece about the old historical automatons. But then there are payments _in_ and I don’t know why he’s paying in. He doesn’t do that, ever. The only person he willingly gives money to is Nepeta and occasionally Karkat if he asks nicely enough and he’s feeling particularly charitable. He tried once – remember? Back when AA first moved out of her aunt’s house – oh.’ 

‘What is it?’ 

He scrambles to his feet and goes to the computer. ‘I wonder if.’ 

Eridan comes back in just as he’s sitting back in his computer chair. 

‘Kar just called,’ Eridan announces, as though they particularly care. Feferi looks vaguely intrigued, Sollux thinks, spinning his chair round to look at him. ‘Says that there wasn’t a watch. Couldn’t get much sense out of him, he just kept going on about how there wasn’t a watch and he’s really worried for John, but I think that’s more insecurity than anything.’ 

She glances at Sollux. ‘Where are they staying right now?’ 

‘Rose’s house,’ he replies. ‘Karkat wants me to go and stay there too, but I told him I’d be fine here. I’m old enough and ugly enough to look after myself, I don’t need him force-feeding me his bad cooking.’ 

‘Well, why don’t we go and drop by,’ Feferi suggests, and turns her gaze up to Eridan. Sollux knows she’s won without even seeing the bastard’s face, because he can’t deny her anything. It’s literally written into his contract. ‘And I’ll talk to Karkat about this watch.’ 

‘He probably means Dave’s,’ Sollux offers. ‘He’s been going on about it since John first went to see him. Until Jade shows up I don’t think we’re going to get much out of it as anything, let alone whatever Karkat thinks it is.’ 

‘I suppose you’re right. What time is it? Half-two, okay, well we’ve got plenty of time to still catch Karkat in a reasonable state.’ 

Eridan snorts. ‘When is Kar ever reasonable?’ 

‘I’ve never had any problems with him. He’s a little abrasive, sure, but he’s always perfectly reasonable. As long as you don’t hit on John or something equally threatening to his relationship, of course.’ Feferi smiles gently. ‘I do love that tattoo John’s got, it’s such a cute little crab. It’d be such a pity for them to break up over anything, let alone someone actively trying to break them up.’ 

Sollux has to turn away and hack his guts out to avoid laughing. Eridan’s a little red, but he throws a dirty look Sollux’s way. 

‘You’re one to snigger,’ he snaps. ‘You’re always making out with Kar the minute the bottle gets spun.’ 

‘Oh, bullshit,’ Sollux snarls, ‘We haven’t done that for _months_.’ 

‘I think you’ll find,’ Feferi tells them as she gets to her feet and dusts herself off. There’s an imprint on her leg from one of the cushions. ‘That I was talking to you both. I’ll call you later, Soll. Come on, Eridan, let’s go find a cab.’ 

She flips her hair over her shoulder and stomps off to the door. The least antagonist thing the two men have done today is look at each other in bemusement and shrug before Eridan flips him off and heads off after her. Sollux sighs, rolls his eyes, and turns back to the computer. 

About half an hour later, the buzzer goes. Sollux flinches, and looks around. Feferi had left her bag under the table, so he grabs it and buzzes her in. He leaves the door on the latch and goes back to Aradia’s computer, scrolling through pages after pages of emails, reading each one carefully, making notes of times, dates and places, tallying up emails from the museums and friends and the archaeologists back in England that liked to tell her about new Roman pottery they found as though she cared about pottery. She was more interested in bones, but they were rare to come through these days. 

He’s so caught up in reading a riveting email from the University of Washington that he doesn’t hear Feferi come in, but she doesn’t greet him either, so he lets her be. The door clicks shut and the room falls silent but for the buzzing of the computer tower. 

And then – 

And then – 

Nothing. 

_Mage of Doom (n): An artificer; one who destroys himself with his cleverness._


	5. Some Assembly Required

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild character select screen appears! TOO LATE WE'VE CHOSEN FOR YOU.

Jade Harley is one pissed off broad. Karkat, sitting upside down on the couch, lifts his fist. She bumps it and flops down next to him, swings her legs up and over and lowers herself till the crown of her head is just brushing the floor. He pats the hair pooled on the floor next to him consolingly.

‘Want to talk about it?’

‘Fuck traffic,’ she says. ‘Fuck speed limits. Fuck cops.’

‘Fuck the police?’ he grins.

‘Yeah, exactly. I mean, god damn what are they trying to do, get people killed? Just you know, stop the traffic in the middle of the road on the fucking highway. Not like there are other drivers around or anything. Oh and by the way, don’t open anything Bro sends you for the next three weeks.’

‘Fuck,’ Karkat groans, and then bangs his head on the floor. ‘John, fucking hell, don’t do that!’

John laughs from the back of the couch, and squeezes Jade’s feet too. ‘Then sit up properly, guys, what are you? Thirteen?’

Jade rolls to the side and sits up. Karkat slides his back to the floor and folds himself into a ball before straightening himself out. Jade pats his backside with her foot whilst it’s in range, and he threatens to bite her toes off with a gnash of teeth. She laughs and sprawls over him the moment he’s sat the right way up. Her legs go over his lap and into John’s when he sits on Karkat’s other side, and the three of them end up tangled in a ball of limbs and baggy sweaters within minutes.

‘Seriously, though,’ Karkat begins after teasing Jade’s hair free from under his arm. ‘Something’s riled you up. You have literally just walked through the door. Have you even seen Strider yet?’

‘Not yet, no, Rose wanted me to go with her in the morning. Said I’d need the rest. And that doesn’t help matters much.’

‘Trust me,’ John says, and squeezes her ankle. ‘You’re going to want it.’

‘Oh,’ Karkat asks, and yawns like a cat. ‘Did you ask about that watch?’

‘Oh, yeah, Doc said there wasn’t one. I asked Dave to point out where they were on a map. I’m going to go have a look tomorrow and see whether he dropped it.’

‘Hah,’ Jade snorts. ‘Bullshit, he doesn’t have a watch, I’ve already told you this, John.’

‘I know that, but it’s worth a look anyway, don’t you think? What if there’s something there?’

Karkat makes a noise that could be a laugh but could just as easily be a hairball. ‘What is this, John? A detective story? Even if there is something there, you’re not going to find it, you know? There’s going to be police crawling all over the place, you won’t get near it if they haven’t found it already.’

‘Could ask Teri,’ John shrugs. ‘She might be able to help out.’

‘If she’s even on the case.’

‘Wait,’ Jade interrupts as John opens his mouth to reply. ‘From the top, guys, come on, this is ridiculous.’

Karkat heaves a sigh, adjusts his legs and settles again. ‘Alright, I’ll tell you what I told Feferi. We don’t have the slightest fucking clue what’s going on. We have less of a clue than a game of Cluedo. We literally could not have less of a clue if clue was another word.’

‘Karkat,’ John warns, and squeezes his foot again. It kicks, and hits absolutely nothing.

‘Shut up. The point is; we don’t know anything. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to know. It’s not like this is some kind of worldwide conspiracy dating back to Vietnam. It was the wrong place, the wrong time, and two fucking idiots trying to be clever.’

Jade gives him a look, but says nothing.

‘The only thing that bugs me is Strider’s watch,’ Karkat admits. ‘Because he’s lying about having a watch and his being out with Aradia was because of this non-existent watch, and despite what John says about it, I’m holding judgement until you’ve spoken to him, because I know John, and I know he’s a melodramatic ass.’

‘Not as much as you are,’ John quips, and Karkat thumps his leg. ‘Hey, play nice.’

‘I don’t know what everyone’s getting so worked up about. There’s nothing _to_ get worked up about.’

‘You just know,’ Jade sighs over the top of the shorter man’s head to her cousin. ‘That that’s going to bite him in the ass later, don’t you?’

John laughs, but it’s kind of hollow as laughs go. ‘I hope not. Imagine if it was.’

None of them say anything at that, and remain silent for several long moments before a vibrating echoes across the couch.

‘Karkat?’ John sniggers. ‘Is your butt vibrating?’

‘It’s my phone, shitsponge. Get off me so I can get it.’

They don’t, of course, though they do lift their weights to let him pull his phone free.

‘It’s a text,’ he says unnecessarily, and adds, ‘From Feferi. She says Sollux isn’t returning her calls.’

Jade purses her lips. ‘It’s kind of like him, but I don’t know. How’s he been?’

‘He’s a wreck,’ Karkat shrugs, and fiddles with his phone before putting it to his ear. ‘If Feferi rang, he’d pick up. Soll is that – oh fuck you, Soll, answer the fucking phone, don’t just let it go to voicemail. I know you’re there you hacking fuckface, so don’t just _ignore it_. Get your ass on the phone, now. Goddammit, Sollux, call me back. And fucking apologise to Feferi too.’

He hangs up and tosses his phone onto the coffee table. ‘He didn’t pick up.’

‘No shit,’ John says, and huffs when Karkat falls sideways into him.

‘I’ll go check on him in the morning,’ he grumbles. ‘Probably electrocuted himself eating the cables or something. Fucking idiot.’

Jade disentangles herself. ‘I’m going to head to bed, alright? It was a long drive, and Bro’s a fucking idiot pulling burnouts in the parking lot.’ She groans. ‘Oh, fuck him and fuck his fucking puppet too.’

‘Jade, that’s rude.’

‘Oh, shush. Goodnight.’

‘Alright, g’night.’

‘Night, Harley.’

She disappears out of the room, and they hear her traipse up the stairs and shut a door somewhere above their heads. Karkat rearranges himself now that he isn’t trapped by Jade’s weight, throwing one leg over both of John’s and jamming his shoulder into the crook of his arm. Tucking his head under John’s chin, he sighs again.

‘What’s the matter?’ John asks him, shuffling to settle their bones.

Karkat spreads his hand across the curve of John’s hip, palm warm against the ink beneath his clothes. ‘I don’t know. Sollux, I guess. Strider and Aradia, and Feferi. I don’t think there’s anything more to it, but I can’t shake the feeling we’re missing something.’

‘Like I said,’ John assures him. ‘I’ll go and take a look at the scene tomorrow, whilst Jade goes with Rose to see Dave, and you go see Sollux. It’ll be fine. There’s nothing to worry about.’

‘You say that, but.’

‘Kar, it’ll be fine.’

Karkat pulls a face and rolls his shoulders, but gives in. ‘If you say so.’

 

**= >**

**  
**

‘Hey, John, John, wake up.’

John grumbles and rolls over, and rolls into the space Karkat had vacated over an hour ago. The shorter man grins to himself at that, and leans over to press a kiss into John’s hair. The sleeper grumbles a little again, and waves his hand around until he finds Karkat’s neck. He turns his face away at the last second, and gets a sleepy kiss against his jaw.

‘Not a chance,’ he whispers into John’s ear, and manhandles him back into the cocoon of sheets. ‘Go back to sleep, you lazy ass. It’s still early.’

John mumbles something under his breath and makes grabby hands, but Karkat’s already out of reach. He hesitates at the door to make sure John’s gone back to sleep, before slipping out and shutting the door behind him.

When John wakes again, it’s to Jade diving onto his bed from the door, jabbing his ribs with an elbow and nearly avoiding getting him in the groin. He screams, and she screams back.

‘God, John,’ she drawls when he manages to shove her off and it’s only her frantic scrabbling that keeps her on the bed at all. ‘You’re so lazy.’

‘Sorry?’ John asks, raising an eyebrow. ‘Who has a very acute case of narcolepsy?’

‘Hey, fuck you. I was tired, okay?’

John laughs and rolls over to find his glasses. ‘What time is it?’

‘Half-eight-ish?’ Jade shrugs. ‘I don’t know.’

‘What time did Karkat go? Karkat has gone, right? I didn’t dream that?’

‘Pretty sure he has, he was whingeing about you being a lazy ass for about ten minutes. Must have been about seven? I don’t know, it wasn’t that long ago. You know what he’s like anyway, he doesn’t sleep, like, ever.’

‘True. Go away then, I’d like to get up.’

Jade sprawls over the entirety of the bed. ‘Nope. I’ve got nothing to do until Rose is done in the bathroom.’

‘You do know there’s more than one?’

‘Yeah, but all my stuff’s in the one she’s in.’

‘Why did you leave it in there, then?’

‘Because it’s stuff that belongs in the bathroom, duh.’

John kicks ineffectually at her, and she laughs him off. He doesn’t miss the way she’s making an effort, and he feels something like anger spike in his gut. It’s not a wise idea to bring up Dave’s – well, tryst – with Aradia, but he doesn’t like keeping it from her either. She won’t listen, she’ll keep on pining, but she should know all the same. It’s not his business though, not really. He’s given Dave enough warnings about messing with her, and he hasn’t listened either. It’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes.

‘Nice dress,’ he says.

‘I thought so,’ she says, and straightens out the hem. It’s a pretty thing, fitting her curves and modest enough that she can still behave as normal without exposing anything. John doesn’t need to ask to know who bought it for her, there’s only one person who’d buy her a dress like that that she’d willingly wear. ‘Bro bought it for me in the spring, but I’ve never had a chance to wear it.’

John pulls a face. ‘Isn’t it going to rain today?’ he asks. ‘I’m sure the forecast said rain.’

She laughs. ‘Well, I’m going to the hospital, John, it’s not like I’m going to be out in it all day if it does rain. It never hurt anyone, anyway.’

He manages to free his leg and gets to his feet, yanking his T-shirt straight. ‘I guess,’ he dismisses.

‘Anyway,’ Jade drawls. ‘I thought you were going to see the crime scene today?’

‘I am,’ John assures her. ‘Just as soon as you piss off so I can get dressed.’

‘Is this about your tattoo?’ she grins, but gets up anyway. ‘You know we’ve all seen it, John. Dave put the pictures all over Facebook, remember?’

‘Hey, guess what?’

‘What?’

‘Shut up.’

She laughs, sarcastic and pulling faces, but John knows her too well to think she means it for a second. When she’s left him alone, he fishes out his toiletries and some clean underwear and pads to the bathroom. He hesitates at the door and wonders if he locked his home’s front door before leaving. Then he wonders why it’s taken him two days to think about, and decides he must have.

An hour later, he’s ready to go, and swings by the kitchen to talk to Rose before he does.

Kanaya is sat at the breakfast bar, sketching in a notebook and spooning sugar into a mug.

‘Oh,’ John says, when she turns to raise an eyebrow at him. ‘Rose?’

‘You literally just missed her,’ Kanaya tells him, and turns back to her notebook. ‘She left about ten minutes ago.’

‘Well, shit.’

‘Indeed.’

John roots through the fruit bowl to her left to find the greenest apple, and says, ‘I thought you were still going to be out of town for a while?’

‘Attempted murder is a powerful motivator to get your work done,’ Kanaya replies breezily, and flips a page. ‘There are more apples in the pantry.’

‘Oh, cool, cheers.’ He takes a step and pauses. ‘Don’t say it like that, _Jesus_!’

‘Well, it was, wasn’t it?’ she shrugs. ‘The attack was hardly done with the intent to befriend.’

‘Kanaya,’ John whines, and she laughs.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I suppose I was channelling my inner-Aradia.’

John laughs and finds a greener apple in the pantry. ‘How long are you back for?’ he calls.

‘I’m finished over in Arkansas,’ Kanaya replies. ‘I’m waiting on Massachusetts.’

‘You’ll be waiting a while.’

‘I’m aware. Do try to be nice to Teri,’ she warns him, and sends a hard look his way.

He baulks. ‘I wasn’t planning on being mean to her,’ he mumbles, and scuffs his toes. ‘But if she gets her ass in her hand, I’m not going to sit there and let her bully me. Again.’

Kanaya Maryam, John thinks, has the closest to infinite patience he has ever seen anyone get. She doesn’t, however, put up with his shit, or anyone else’s. She’s infamous for telling Eridan where he can shove his whining, and even worse with Karkat’s, though she is a little more sympathetic towards the latter. She has had no patience for the petty feud John has allowed to go on for the entire time it’s been going on.

‘You fully deserved it,’ she tells him, which is what she tells him every time. ‘If you’d told her before you did it, she wouldn’t have minded.’

‘I didn’t know I was going to do it until I did it,’ John tells her, exasperated and frustrated and more than a little spiteful. ‘I can’t exactly tell her I’m going to have sloppy make outs with her ex if I don’t know I’m going to go and have sloppy make outs with him, can I?’

Kanaya gives him a look. ‘No,’ she says, and turns away. ‘I suppose you can’t. But you could have waited some.’

‘His brother was in the _mental hospital_. I had to comfort him somehow.’

‘By sleeping with him?’

‘Four months later!’

Kanaya’s stare is level whilst John’s is wild, and the latter backs down first.

‘Whatever, I’m not getting into this again. I’ve got too much to do. I’ll see you later, I guess.’

‘See you later, John. Take care.’

‘Yeah, sure.’

 

**= >**

 

‘Oh, fuck me sideways, what are you doing here?’

Karkat is about thirty seconds away from flipping a table into orbit, because this was not something he wanted to deal with this morning. Dealing with Equius Zahhak on a good day is hard enough, but there’s a niggling worry lodged between his ribs about John going anywhere near the crime scene, and another worm creeping in that worries about Jade, his whole gut heavy with worry about everything else, and he’s not in the mood. He is so not in the mood in that the mood might as well be another solar system.

Equius gives him a flat stare when he curses, and Karkat pulls a face up at him. The twelve inches difference in height is going to kill his neck.

‘Feferi contacted me earlier,’ he explains. ‘To tell me that Sollux had not replied to her calls, and requested that I stop by on my way to my father’s office to make sure he hadn’t done something irresponsible. I assume that’s why you are also here?’

Karkat waves a hand and goes to press the buzzer. ‘Obviously. She got on my case last night about it, but I thought I’d give the bastard chance to get back to me. Which he didn’t. Which is why I’m here.’

Equius hums. ‘I tried the buzzer. He isn’t answering.’

‘He’s not?’

‘No.’

Karkat curses under his breath and fishes his phone out, dialling and holding it to his ear. He steps back onto the pavement to look up at the window of Sollux’s flat, but he can’t tell if it’s open or not, nor whether there’s a light on in there. The call rings out, and he leaves a second abusive voicemail before hanging up.

‘He’s still not answering.’

‘I am wrong to be worried?’ Equius certainly sounds it, Karkat thinks, stepping back to the buzzer and holding his finger down. There’s no crackle of the speaker to say Sollux is responding, and Karkat feels the worry in his gut spike.

‘I don’t know,’ Karkat replies, honest for once. ‘Even when he tries to ignore us, he doesn’t do a very good job of it.’ He casts a glance back at where the bigger man stands. ‘Could you break down the door?’

‘I will not do something so destructive!’ Equius snaps, and then reigns himself in. ‘This is public property, Vantas, and I will not pay for the damages thereof. I could break down the door, but that is not the point. You could just as easily call one of the other flats and request that they let you in.’

‘And what about Soll’s flat? If I get into the building, how am I going to get into the flat itself? Unlike certain mutual acquaintances I can name, I can’t pick locks.’

Equius frowns, but Karkat knows he won’t budge, so he slides his finger down one button and buzzes the flat below.

‘Hello?’ The voice isn’t overly old, but it is getting there.

Karkat straightens to his full height, and goes for charm. He misses by a mile.

‘Good morning,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need access to the building.’

She disconnects and Karkat is left glaring at the speaker.

‘Goodness,’ Equius says, after this happens three more times, and Karkat is grating the words out through his teeth. ‘Step aside. You have no idea how to formally address a stranger.’

‘Hey, fuck you.’ But he gets out of the way all the same.

Equius goes for the flat next to Sollux’s, and when the occupant says “Hello”, he puts on the smartest accent Karkat has ever heard him use.

‘Good morning,’ he says. ‘Loathe though I am to disturb your morning, I have a request I need to make regarding your neighbour, Sollux Captor.’

‘Captor?’ comes the reply. ‘He made a racket last night, but he won’t answer the door.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Equius says, and casts a look at Karkat when the shorter man opens his mouth. ‘He hasn’t returned our calls and we are, as I’m sure you will understand, concerned for him. If you could allow myself and my companion inside, we will make sure that Captor apologises to you for his inconsiderate behaviour at the first available opportunity.’

‘How do I know this isn’t a scam?’ she says. ‘For all I know, you’re going to come up here and mug me.’

‘It is your decision,’ Equius says, and Karkat thinks he sees him curl his lip, but his face is expressionless again a few moments later.

She takes enough time mulling it over that Karkat begins to fidget, but eventually she buzzes them in. Equius thanks her, and holds the door open for Karkat to enter.

They’re silent as they climb the stairs, and when they reach the hallway, they both stop and stare.

‘There’s something wrong,’ Karkat says.

He doesn’t know what it is, but there is definitely something wrong. Physically, there is nothing different about the corridor. It looks the same as ever, and the noise level is the same. But it’s empty, which is a little odd, though Karkat supposes it’s still early, and therefore dismissible.

‘Can you smell that?’ he asks, and Equius nods.

‘Paint,’ he says, and starts off down the corridor.

Karkat hastens to catch up.

The door to Sollux’s flat is shut, but when Karkat pushes, it swings open.

‘Oh, fuck,’ he says.

 

**= >**

**  
**

‘Are you sure you really need me here?’ Jade grumbles, and slouches lower in the seat.

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Rose replies, sitting neatly next to her. She reaches over to tug Jade’s skirt straight and then goes back to the magazine. ‘If I thought there was another way to get answers from him, I wouldn’t have involved you at all. I know it’s hard on you.’

‘I’m not worried about that,’ Jade huffs, and shoves herself straight. She folds her arms and buries her chin in her chest. ‘I’m more worried about John going to see Teri. I’d rather be there, y’know.’

‘I know,’ Rose assures her. ‘But I can’t imagine we’ll be here for long. Dave has about as much resistance to you as his brother.’ She glances over when Jade makes a rough noise in the back of her throat. ‘You are aware you have them both around your little finger, right?’

‘Well, I know they look after me as best they can, but I always thought Bro did it out of some kind of ass-backward match-making debt to Grandpa or something.’

Rose is quiet for a few moments, but then she says, ‘I can’t imagine Bro and your grandfather discussing your romantic future for any longer than a few seconds before it becomes a farce.’

‘I suppose. I don’t know, I never really gave it much thought. Bro’s just Bro, and Dave. Well, Dave’s kind of a dick sometimes.’

‘I think sometimes is something of an understatement, but I’ll let you have that one.’

They fall silent again, and remain that way until Jade speaks.

‘What do you want me to talk to him about, anyway?’

‘When John and I first came to see him after his admission,’ Rose explains, and tosses the magazine back onto the coffee table. ‘He said that the only reason he had been with Aradia was because she was going to fix his watch. I’m sure John has told you this.’

‘Yeah. Dave doesn’t have a watch.’

‘Exactly. I know for a fact he is lying about more than just the watch, and though John says Dave told him that they’d gone deliberately to the Felt Manor without expecting to be attacked, I have doubts about that.’

‘They went deliberately?’ Jade asks, jaw slack. ‘Why would they do that? They know how dangerous it is.’ Her eyes steel. ‘I’m going to kill him. He’s such an idiot! He should know better by now! And putting Aradia in danger too, oh my God, Rose, what is his damage?’

‘I’ve been asking myself that same question for the last three days,’ Rose admits. ‘It’s why I called you here. I know Dave hasn’t visited you for some time, but he’s a stubborn ass, and the sooner we get answers, the better.’

Jade purses her lips. ‘Do you think it might be to do with the gang?’

‘I’d really rather it wasn’t, but I can’t say I’d be too surprised it was. It does make more sense than anything else I’ve thought of. It’d be just like Dave.’

‘But Aradia.’

‘Aradia’s not an idiot,’ Rose assures her. ‘If you’re right and they are involved, then Aradia would have known about it. I’m pretty sure John is the only one who doesn’t know about it.’

Jade doesn’t look convinced, but accepts it as the end to the conversation and goes back to silence. They stay like that for another few minutes before Dave’s doctor comes into the waiting room and calls them.

‘Ah, Ms Lalonde, there you are. And you must be Miss Harley?’

‘That’s right, yes,’ Jade says, and gets to her feet to shake his hand. ‘You’re Dave’s doctor, right?’ When he nods, she says, ‘Let’s go then, no time like the present.’

 

**= >**

**  
**

‘ _John_?’

‘What is it?’ he asks, and ignores the way Teri is tapping her cane against his shin far harder than she needs to.

‘ _We might have a problem_.’

‘Define problem.’

‘ _I’m sending you a picture_.’

The call disconnects and thirty seconds later, his phone buzzes with a new message. When he opens it, he’s greeted with a picture of Sollux’s living room wall. It’s pretty plain as walls go, a large mirror hung in the middle with a couple of old posters tacked up either side. Over the top of it all, someone’s sprayed a sentence, large, perfect letters in green.

John calls back. ‘What the fuck is that?’ he asks.

‘ _I don’t know_ ,’ Karkat replies. ‘ _But I don’t like it. Tell me we thought the same thing_.’

‘I’m pretty sure we did. Teri, for fuck sake, stop hitting me!’

‘ _Put her on_.’

John hands the phone over and when Teri’s ripped it out of his hand and wandered off to chat with Karkat out of earshot, he rubs at his soon-to-be bruised shin and grumbles to himself. Terezi Pyrope is, all things considered, a bitch. She’s nice enough, he supposes, but she’s been holding John’s relationship with Karkat over his head for three years, and that’s beginning to grate.

He wanders back to the edge of the crime scene and stands with his hands in his pockets, getting caution tape stuck to his jeans and accusatory looks off the police officers guarding the area. He looks at the chalk outlines and the blood stains not yet washed away, and mumbles under his breath.

> _Mage of Doom (n): An artificer; one who destroys himself with his cleverness._

What did that even mean? Sounded like something geeky and from some internet-role-playing game Sollux had been interested in back in their teens. But why then, would someone choose to spray it over his living room wall in an almost neon green? The thought crosses his mind that Sollux had finally lost it, but he dismisses it with a shake of his head. If Sollux had gone round the bend, he would have sprayed coding over his wall and not a dictionary definition of a gamer’s title.

He grimaces, rubs his forehead. He wants to talk to Karkat, find out what happened – if Sollux was even there, though he doubts it, given that there was a “problem.” This did, of course, raise the question of how Karkat had gotten into the flat at all. Shenanigans had been probably involved if the door hadn’t already been open, and that right there was enough to make worry squeeze at his ribs. ‘Hey, kid.’

He jumps and looks over his shoulder. A darkly-dressed man is approaching, arm in a sling and hat tilted low over his face. He looks a little like John’s Dad in that respect, and John smiles genially.

‘What is it?’ he asks.

‘What’s happening?’ He sounds like he’s from Brooklyn, but it could just be that he’s picked up the accent. He could be from anywhere, really.

‘Oh, there was an accident a couple of days ago,’ John says. ‘They’ve closed the street down.’

The man huffs, and digs his uninjured hand into his trouser pocket. ‘Well, fuck,’ he says. ‘I had some business down this way.’

John shrugs. ‘There’s a couple of side streets a little further up that bring you in on the other side of the street. Might be able to get in that way.’

The man nods. ‘Cheers, kid.’

And just like that, he’s gone again.

‘Okay,’ John says to the empty space beside him. ‘No problem.’

Teri comes back over about five minutes later. ‘Here,’ she says, and shoves the phone into his chest. ‘You deal with him.’

John heaves a sigh and rolls his eyes, knowing that her eyesight isn’t anywhere near good enough to see it, and puts the phone to his ear.

Karkat is spitting mad, of course, cursing up a storm. John waits patiently for him to finish before saying, ‘So it didn’t go well, then?’

‘ _Fuck you, Egbert_ ,’ Karkat snaps. ‘ _You know what Teri’s like when I let her have a word in edgeways_.’

‘I don’t want to know what you talked about, do I?’

‘ _No. Anyway. Sollux is missing_.’

John sighs, looking at the overcast sky. ‘You know what, Kar, I never would have figured that out if you hadn’t told me. I was so totally convinced you’d pulled a prank on him.’

‘ _Shut your mouth. Equius says that that green’s the Felt’s green_.’

‘Of course it is,’ John grumbles. ‘Fucking hell,’ he breathes. ‘What are we meant to _do_?’

Karkat makes a rough noise in the back of his throat. It sounds like a cat trying to be sick. ‘ _It’s obvious where he is, don’t you think_?’

John turns to look back at the caution tape. ‘Felt Manor.’ ‘ _Exactly. Question is; what’s happened to him_?’

‘If he’s dead.’

‘ _He better fucking not be; I’ll kill him_.’

John huffs, and ducks his head for a moment. ‘Babe,’ he whispers, and Karkat quiets.

‘ _I know_ ,’ he mumbles back. ‘ _I’m scared too_.’

‘We need to tell everyone,’ John says. ‘They needs to know.’

‘ _Alright_ ,’ Karkat agrees. ‘ _I’ll call Feferi, she can help round everyone up_.’

‘Okay, I’ll bring Teri back with me.’

‘ _The hospital_?’

‘I’ll fill Dave in later. I don’t think they’d let us all in at once.’

‘ _Rose’s_?’

‘Sounds good. I’ll be there soon.’

‘ _Be careful_.’

‘Aren’t I always?’

He hangs up on Karkat’s blustering, laughing to himself.

 

**= >**

**  
**

‘Hello, Dave.’

‘Harley, ‘s been a while. Sorry I’m not in better physical condition, but you know me, always living a life on the edge, getting smacked around by your boyfriend.’

Jade lowers her eyebrows. ‘David Strider,’ she says, stressing each syllable. ‘I told you to drop that.’

Dave puffs his cheeks out, shades perfectly in place, but his brow crinkles; he’s trying to look innocent. Jade isn’t fooled for a second, and folds her arms. Rose snorts from her seat in the chair in the corner. Dave takes the opportunity to look at Jade; she’s lost a few pounds, but she’s looking healthy as ever, all round curves and untameable hair. She’s wearing a pretty dress and boots, a neat leather jacket tossed on the bed by his feet. She looks – she looks – really nice like that.

He is also perfectly aware of why she’s here, and wants nothing more than to get her out of there as soon as possible.

‘So what are you after?’ he asks. ‘Don’t fret too hard, I’ll be up and about in no time, I know what the thought of losing this prime piece of plush rump does to you ladies. Can’t be having you all up and scared that I’m gonna be out of action for the rest of time now, can I? God knows none of you can spin a beat for the life of you, I’ve got to stick around just for your parties. The DJs Feferi’s people hire are always really shit, why won’t she let me do it, I don’t understand, it’s what I’m _paid_ to do, I’m good at it, we all know it.’

The only person capable of out-talking Dave is Karkat, which is one of the many reasons they have been banned from occupying the same space for too long. Another includes Jade’s High School yearbook, but that, Dave thinks, is something else entirely and involves far too many geometrical shapes and anatomical sketches for this early in the lunchtime rush.

‘Dave,’ Jade says, and she’s got this _look_ on her face, and oh.

Jade Harley is the only person capable of shutting him up sometimes.

He exhales, and closes his eyes behind his shades, just so he doesn’t have to see her face. At the other side of the room, he knows Rose has an increasingly triumphant expression plastering itself across the perfect line of her make-up, and he ignores her too. He picks absently at the gauze over his liver, and hearing Jade draw breath, lays his hand flat against it instead. Everything aches; he’s refusing morphine now, which Jade will shove a poker up his backside over if she finds out, but he needs to get back on his feet. If he can survive being raised by his brother, he can survive getting shot.

So what if he has to have help standing, and has to suffer the indignity of one of the male nurses helping him in and out of the shower because he can’t actually move without pulling something? So what if his breath comes short, that he loses his voice if he rambles on to himself for too long? (He admits to himself that he does this far too much; having pissed John off, he’s been left alone for the better part of two days, not counting the time before John even got there, which is more than ample time for him to be going stir crazy and muttering to himself about the crows outside.)

Anything’s better than being in the fucking hospital, because goddammit Dave Strider is not a man that functions trapped in one place. He dreads to think how James feels, and then remembers that James is a lunatic and probably doesn’t know he’s actually trapped there.

When he thinks to look up again, the annoyance in Jade’s expression has steeled somewhat, become something quieter and harder, a tightness at the corner of her eyes. He doesn’t think she realises it, but she’s very easy to read. He knows how to do so perfectly, knows how to read everyone perfectly. All he has to do is open his mouth and he knows exactly how everyone feels because they don’t hesitate to tell them that he’s being an insufferable prick and he needs to shut up once in a while.

Mostly, though, Jade just looks kind of hurt. Not the sort of hurt that had been on her face when he told her he was going out with Teri (which had left a bad taste in his mouth that made him feel sick later because Teri had been eating cherry liquors and that was a bad idea really) but the sort of disappointed hurt he has seen far too many times on her face.

‘So I hear you got Aradia injured over a watch,’ she says.

No, not disappointed; really pissed off.

‘That I did,’ he replies.

She watches him for a second. Shades have never put Jade Harley off for a second, he knows, and she doesn’t falter in their staring contest.

‘We both know you don’t have a watch. You haven’t had a watch since you were thirteen, and if you did decided to buy one now, you wouldn’t buy one old enough that Aradia would have to fix it. You also wouldn’t take her in the direction of the fucking Felt Manor! What do you take me for? I’m not an idiot, so don’t think you can pull that shit on me. If this is about the Suits - ’

‘It’s not about the fucking Suits!’ Dave snaps, interrupting her. ‘It’s got absolutely jack shit to do with them. They are so uninvolved that they aren’t even in the fucking state.’

‘Bullshit are they not in the state, they follow us _everywhere_ ,’ Jade snaps back, and she steps closer, ready to get in his face over it. ‘It’s their job to follow us. What happened to Cans, Dave? Because it’ll only take one phone call to find out.’

She pulls her phone – a battered old thing she refuses to get rid of no matter how many times Bro and Dave both offer to buy her a new one – and flips it open. She clicks two buttons and he knows she’s one button from speed-dialling. He tries to stare her down, but it doesn’t work. ‘Hearts,’ he says, and she sends him a bitter smile.

‘I thought so,’ Rose sighs. ‘As soon as you said Cans.’

‘They only got involved after we did,’ Dave says, and coughs. His voice is scratchy again, but he expected that, all things considered. ‘You know what they’re like, any excuse for a fight.’

Rose frowns at him. ‘You keep saying “they”. Was Diamonds - ’

‘Yes,’ he cuts in. ‘I don’t know where he came from. He’s lucky he didn’t lose an eye the way he was carrying on.’

Jade frowns at him this time, flips her phone shut. ‘I don’t like it. It’s not like them to wait for you to get hurt. I’m going to give them both such a fucking earful.’

Dave doesn’t say anything for several long moments, and ignores the pointed way Rose is watching him.

‘Have either of you seen Aradia?’ he asks.

Jade shakes her head, but Rose says, ‘I spoke briefly with the nurses in charge of her. She’s lucky she’s not dead. If she was, you can bet that you would have several different people gunning for you. Most of them with the ability to actually do some damage. I’m sure you remember that time Equius punched a hole in the drywall.’

‘It was falling apart anyway.’

‘He still put a hole in it.’

‘Whatever.’ It’s terrible as dismissals go, but he’s too lazy to think of anything better.

He casts a brief look at Jade, but she isn’t looking at him. In fact, she’s looking at her phone, fiddling with it for a second, and then Dave’s ears catch up and he realises it’s ringing.

‘Hello?’ she asks. ‘Oh, John, hi! What – slow down – John, John stop – I don’t. What? John, shut up. I don’t – Karkat – what – well didn’t you say that in the beginning – what – say that again – John. Oh for – put Kanaya on. Kan, hi, what’s all this about? No, no I didn’t think they would be, that’s why I asked for you. Okay, okay we’ll be there in a little while. Okay. Do you want – okay, no, it’ll wait, okay. Alright, see you in a few.’

She hangs up, puts her phone away, and grabs her coat. She doesn’t give Dave a passing glance when she turns to Rose. It hurts more than it probably should.

‘John wants us back at yours,’ she tells Rose. ‘He’s making about as much sense as Karkat, which is about as good a sign as getting called by him at two in the morning. They’re bringing everyone in, so we’ll need to go and get Feferi and Eridan on the way.’

‘Alright,’ Rose says, because there’s pretty much no point arguing if John’s decided on something. ‘He could have called to tell me.’

‘John never does anything. Dave, we’ll see you later.’

Jade’s gone before he can get a reply out. Rose slaps a thumb and index finger to her forehead and looks in his direction before following. Dave lies there in silence for several minutes. Then he yanks off his shades, puts a hand over his eyes, and breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay y'all, you know how multiple fandoms kick you in the butt.
> 
> EDIT:: The following chapter (6) will contain gore. As I noted on the tumblr; you can avoid these scenes, but they are important to the plot, so choose wisely. It's not very well written IMO, so you shouldn't have too many worries. I want to tell you what sort of gore it is. But that's a spoiler. These are the problems I face.


	6. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the pieces are on the board, but they're in disarray.

At rest, the average human heart beats sixty times a minute. Under stress, the rate is doubled, in some cases tripled. Sollux Captor can barely breathe around the heart lodged in his throat, pulse thrumming through every cell in his body. If he had the mind for it, he might acknowledge that he was hyperventilating, but all he can think about is the tray of stainless steel positioned perfectly in front of him.

He doesn’t remember getting knocked out. He doesn’t remember coming to. He was there and now he’s here and that’s all there is to it. The rope digs into his wrists, burns as he tries to twist free. It doesn’t really register, of course it doesn’t.

If he’s honest with himself, he knows what’s coming. He’s not an idiot; God knows the films he’s watched over the years flutter across the back of his eyelids, fingers digging into the creases in his mind and pull.

He’s going to die.

And for what? What did he do, what did he find?

The green is making him sick. Everything is green; the wallpaper, the carpet, the curtains. It’s all green, too bright and too dark, bleeding into each other until he has to shut his eyes before the sickness becomes more than a churning in his gut.

‘Is anyone there?’ he calls.

He is met with silence, the sort that comes from being ignored. There is movement outside, in the street. He can hear it, the steady tick-tick-tick of life; cars and footsteps and the clicking of a butterfly knife in his ear.

‘Normally, we’d just kill you.’

He knows better than to make a noise; not that he could, the knife is pressed up under his jaw, forcing his head back. He blinks his eyes open, but sees nothing.

‘But orders from up top are to give you a warning, like. So here I am, giving you a warning.’

He sniffs, swallows, digs his fingers into the chair arms. ‘For what offence, _officer_? Terribly sorry I’m not a law-abiding citizen, they’re so rare in these parts.’

The knife digs in, enough to push his head back. He inhales sharply through his nose, smells iron and bleach.

‘Less of that, if you’d be so kind. It’s that kind of attitude that gets you pinned.’

Sollux breathes, whistling through his teeth as the knife point breaks skin before disappearing. He watches the green coat swirl in front of him, ducking his chin to wipe the blood away. The suit is a skinny fellow, all bones and sunken eyes. He looks like a corpse. It doesn’t make him feel better to know he’s already in Death’s hands.

‘Still,’ the coat says. ‘That’s not what I’m here to do, see?’ He steps aside to gesture at the tray of equipment. ‘You’ve been a very stupid little brat, y’know? Gotta stop you looking any deeper.’

Fear settles cold and unfamiliar in Sollux’s gut. Fists clenched tight, he pulls at the rope around his wrists, yanking until the skin tears. The suit ignores him, fiddles with an instrument that looks like a fork.

‘Do you know how to take someone’s eye out, Mister Captor?’

Sollux laughs. It sounds more like a sob. ‘Why would I know that?’

‘I could tell you, if you like. Don’t doctors always tell their patients what they’re going to do before they do it?’

His pulse throbs in his ears. He can barely hear himself think. It’s like being in the same room as Karkat when he’s in a temper again. Fuck. Karkat. Does he know? Does anyone know?

‘Ah, ah, ah,’ the suit tuts, and clamps a hand on Sollux’s chin to hold him still. ‘None of that. Can’t have you fainting on me now, can we? You’ll miss the fun part.’

Sollux looks into those sunken eyes, sees his face reflected back at him. ‘What fun?’

‘Eyeballs are kind of soft,’ the suit explains, and rubs his fingers together. ‘They’re squishy; imagine an olive, or a tomato. Very easy to lever out. The hardest part is cutting the nerves. You can’t just pull and have it pop out like in the cartoons. It’s not like that. It’s messier. There’s a lot of blood, and if you’re unlucky, the eyeball will break, that liquid, pus substance on the inside –‘

The suit breaks off, grabs Sollux’s chin to force him to look at him.

‘Mister Captor, please, I’m talking to you, don’t be rude. The vitreous – that’s that liquid on the inside of the eye – it’ll go everywhere. Dreadful mess it makes. If you can get the eyeball out without breaking it, it will hang there, connected by nerves and veins. There are muscles too – they can be tough to cut, but a sharp blade is more than adequate for that.’

He takes out a butterfly knife and flicks it around his wrist as if to prove a point.

Sollux stares, breath catching in his throat. He’s cold, shaking under the grip the suit has on him.

‘Wouldn’t want to kill you though, that would be just awful, so I’ll be as careful as I can. I’ll even fix up the nerve endings for you. Not that it matters; I imagine you’ll pass out from the pain. Everybody does. Ah, but I imagine you don’t want me to blind you at all, do you? Well you see, with the way things stand, we have no choice. You simply can’t be allowed to continue. You have three strikes, and then you’re out.’

‘Strike three I’m dead,’ Sollux corrects, closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he’s looking elsewhere.

‘Yes, that’s right.’

Sollux thinks about it whilst the suits lets go of his face to fiddle with the equipment.

‘What did I find?’ he asks. ‘So I know for next time.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ the suit says. ‘You won’t look for it again. Keep your friends close, kid, ‘cause your enemies are even closer. They’re all between the lines, keeping quiet and watching you bleed.’

‘What the fuck does that mean? Are you tracking her computer? Are you keeping tabs on us?’

‘Mister Captor, could you please shut your fucking trap?’

Sollux blinks, draws breath and says, ‘Make me.’

There is no anaesthetic. There is no alcohol. There is no warning. There is just a fork jammed into his eye socket and pulling.

 

**= >**

‘Soll’s missing.’

‘Babe, there’s this thing called tact. You’re missing it.’

Karkat sends a look John’s way, but the taller man just grins and returns to fiddling with the computer. He’s not great at it, but he’s better than Karkat.

‘You’re an ass, did you know that?’

John grins some more, and then pulls a face at the USB connector cable in his hand. ‘It’s your ass though.’

‘Oh my God! When you’ve quite finished gaying up the place, can we get on with it?’

John turns, surprised. ‘Sorry,’ he says.

He gets waved off and finishes connecting Rose’s laptop to the TV. Turns out he was trying to put the cable in the wrong way. It’s an easy mistake to make. Dusting his hands off, he settles back into the couch, arm around Karkat’s shoulders, and gestures for his boyfriend to continue.

Karkat elbows him, but it’s too soft to be anything but fond, and says, ‘As I said before, Soll’s missing.’

‘We heard you the first time, Karkles.’

Vriska Serket, John thinks absently as he curls his fingers under the neckline of Karkat’s double-layer T-shirt to rake his nails against his collarbone, is still incredibly pretty, even if she is pulling faces. He digs his fingers in to stop Karkat biting, but Karkat ignores him.

‘I’m going to punch you,’ he says, and turns his head to face the other direction and shut her out of the conversation. John thinks it’ll work all of thirty seconds. ‘When I went to check on him this morning, that was waiting for me.’ He points at the photo he’d taken in Sollux’s flat, blown up to fit on the television screen.

‘ _The Mage of Doom_ , _noun. An artificer; one who destroys himself with his cleverness._ Um. What does artificer mean?’

 Karkat grumbles, John squeezes his shoulder at the same time Jade, sat on the floor next to his feet, punches him in the shin.

Rose says, ‘An artificer is a craftsman. On its own, artifice means cleverness. I’d imagine it’s a “getting too big for your boots” sort of message. That’s how I read it at least.’

‘So it’s saying that Soll is really clever? And he’s using that cleverness in a way that’s going to get him hurt?’

‘I believe so, yes.’

‘Oh.’ Tavros Nitram hums and picks at his fingernails. ‘Then it’s really bad that he’s gone missing.’

Karkat lets out and explosive breath and buries his face in John’s shoulder. ‘You catch him up I’m not dealing with this shit.’

‘Well, excuse _me_ , but it’s not like it’s my fault you never tell me anything.’

‘Yeah, you tell him, Tav,’ Jade grins.

Karkat knees her in the shoulder.

‘When you’ve quite finished,’ Kanaya interrupts just as Jade opens her mouth to start arguing. ‘Let’s just let Karkat tell us what he thinks.’

Vriska opens her mouth, but Kanaya shoots her a glare and she snaps it shut.

‘Alright, so Soll stopped answering his calls last night. This morning, I go to check up on him, and find that Fef’s called Equius in,’ here, he gives a rough jerk of the head to Equius as acknowledgement. The bigger man mostly ignores him, too busy fiddling with fixing Nepeta Leijon’s necklace, ‘since Soll’s place is on his way to work. So we get in, and the door’s open. The place is a total wreck; Aradia’s computer is a pile of scrap metal and all of their papers are scattered everywhere. And then I turn around, and that’s sprayed all over the wall.’

‘It’s a miracle nothing was stolen,’ Feferi murmurs.

Eridan scoffs. ‘Priorities, Fef.’

She pulls a face and makes a talking gesture with her hand. She freezes and her expression turns serious.

 ‘He was working on Aradia’s computer when we left him, wasn’t he?’

‘Yeah,’ Eridan agrees, though he hardly needs to.

‘When I was talking to him,’ Feferi continued as though Eridan hadn’t said anything. ‘He had a sudden idea – he didn’t tell me what it was, but he did have a sudden idea. He was checking that out when we left.’

‘An idea about what?’ Karkat asks, and straightens to look at her properly.

She fidgets, pulling her legs up onto the couch and tucking herself further into Eridan’s side in the process. She’s quiet for a minute, but then she snaps her fingers.

‘It was to do with her Aunt! He said that he’d been looking at her bank records, thinking she’d got into financial trouble – I don’t know, maybe he thought she’d gotten in with a loan shark? – and he was talking about the records, and then he mentioned when Aradia moved out of her Aunt’s house, and he just shot off back to the computer. Then Eridan came back from his call with you, and we left him to it. He never said what it was that he was looking at.’

The room is silent for a moment, and then Tavros says, ‘I met her Aunt once, just before Aradia changed schools. She was a really nice lady, very friendly. She was a bit – um, gone – in the head, but she was very nice.’

Vriska snorts. ‘Her Aunt was a total fucking lunatic,’ she corrects. ‘She kept spouting these stories about all this shit she got up to in her childhood.’

‘Like you never got up to shit in yours,’ Teri snaps, and raps her knuckles against Vriska’s covered left arm.

‘Fuck you!’

‘Children!’ Rose snaps over them both. ‘Good God,’ she sighs, flopping into Kanaya’s side. ‘Why is it always us?’

‘Because everyone is convinced we’re still at Prom,’ Kanaya replies, and pets her hair.

Karkat makes a rude gesture. ‘That’s so unfair. Prom was the worst night of my life.’

‘Hey,’ Tavros pipes up, frowning. ‘I lost my legs that night.’

‘Yeah, and who had to put up with James the entire time? Me, that’s who.’

‘John, could you actually do your job for once and reign that monstrosity in?’ Rose asks.

‘Who are you calling a monstrosity?’ Karkat demands, and John thinks he might have whiplash from how fast he turned to glare at her.

‘Alright, Kar, that’s enough. This whole thing is getting totally out of hand.’ John worms his way out from under Karkat and gets back to his feet. ‘Alright,’ he says, ‘We stop being dumb now, okay? Soll is _missing_ , and we’re sitting around arguing about our fucking teenage screw-ups. Tav, I apologise on behalf of that dick over there, but you should know better than to give him an opening. Vriska, you should know better than to be rude, and Rose, you should definitely know better than to start that snarky horseshit on me.’

 There’s silence for maybe ten seconds, and then Tavros raises his hand. John grins and gestures.

‘So, that message, that’s the Felt green, right?’

‘Give the man a prize!’ Karkat crows.

Jade turns to hit him properly at the same time as John says, ‘Karkat, either shut up, or go upstairs.’

Karkat rubs at what will likely be a bruise on his arm, and grumbles to himself.

‘Thank you,’ John sneers, and turns back to Tavros, expression back to neutral. ‘Yeah, yeah it is.’

One thing Tavros had in his favour, John thinks, is that overexposure to Karkat in his early teenage years has made him perfectly capable of brushing him and his overemotional bullshit off.

‘So that means the Felt have him?’

‘I think it’s safe to safe so.’

‘Oh,’ Tavros says, and falls silent.

Vriska picks up where he left off.

‘Well, what do we do next, then?’ she demands. ‘We have to get him back, right?’

John turns to Rose. ‘If we were to tell the police, what are the chances we’d get him back alive?’

Rose shakes her head. ‘It’s all rumour, John, I keep saying. There’s nothing concrete, but everyone thinks the police have been bought off. If we tell them, there’s a chance that they could tell the Felt. But it’s just as likely that it was only one or two corrupt officers in the force and the rest are clean.’

John frowns, looks at his feet. ‘What do we do?’

‘I say we go and wreck their shit!’

‘That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard in my life,’ Karkat snaps. John doesn’t tell him off this time, because it is a pretty dumb idea. ‘Have you ever actually been in a fight with anyone other than Aradia? Have you ever been in a fight with someone who knows how to make you hurt, has fucking firearms at their disposal?’ He raises an expectant eyebrow, but Vriska doesn’t say anything. ‘I thought not.’ He turns to Teri. ‘You’re still in placement, right? Can you find out if they’re clean?’

‘I can do,’ she hedges. ‘But I can’t go in until I’m meant to. I tried when I found out about Dave, but they turned me out on my ass. Said if I wasn’t reporting a crime, I shouldn’t mess about in the offices.’ She curls her lip. ‘I’m this close to being taken off my case as it is. I don’t want to risk it. But you’re in luck! I’m on late shift this week, so I’ll be heading in in a few hours anyway.’

‘Alright,’ Karkat nods. ‘That’s good. Okay.’

John shoves his hands in his pockets. ‘What if we just take to the streets?’ he asks, and looks at Rose, and then to Tavros. ‘The streets are mostly safe, right?’

‘If you avoid the rougher parts of town, yes,’ Tavros agrees. An idea dawns on his face and he says, ‘I can talk to the dealers. See if they’ve heard anything.’

‘Since when did you take drugs?’ Vriska demands. Teri smacks her again, in the thigh this time to make sure she feels it.

‘I don’t,’ Tavros replies. He’s getting good at dismissing her these days. ‘But when Gamzee – well before he got put in the hospital, he put all the dealers he knew on the lookout for me.’ He glances at Karkat. ‘You know what he’s like, he didn’t think I’d be safe on my own.’

 ‘To be honest, I’m surprised you’re still alive, given those fucking stairs,’ Karkat replies, and puts his hands up. ‘But that’s just like him. He’s mentioned that he’s got you “protected” when our visits have run close enough together that he remembers. I didn’t think he meant his junkies. I thought he was just talking shit like always.’

Tavros shrugs, picking at the threads of his trousers. ‘They’re alright,’ he says. ‘Once you get past the drugs. They’re really good with street rumour. I can see if they’ve heard anything.’ He grins suddenly. ‘It’ll be like a detective story,’ he says. ‘Sherlock Holmes had the Baker Street Irregulars, after all.’

Vriska sneers at him. ‘And you’ve got your psychopathic boyfriend’s junkie friends. ‘Cause that’s on the same level.’

Jade has to hold Karkat in his seat, and Tavros has to grab hold of Teri.

‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ, will you shut your fuckin’ trap?’ Eridan asks, which, John thinks, sums it up quite nicely.

He turns to Karkat. ‘What do you think? Is it worth it?’

Karkat glares at him. It’s a very impressive glare, but John isn’t really fazed by it any more. ‘Anything is worth it. I want him back, and I don’t care how we do it.’

‘Well, then,’ John says, and claps his hands together. ‘Looks like we’re hitting the streets and scrounging for information.’ He frowns. ‘We should probably keep Dave up to date on it, too, since he’s involved.’

‘John,’ Equius says suddenly, and John turns to look at him. ‘It’s probably escaped your notice, but it’s currently twelve-thirty-eight. Seven of the people currently present in this room have workplaces to return to.’

There’s a murmur of agreement.

‘Oh,’ John says, put out. ‘I’d forgotten about that. Alright, you guys go back to work, Karkat, Jade and I can pick up the slack.’

Jade looks thoughtful for a moment. ‘There is someone else we can ask to help out,’ she says, and looks at Rose. ‘What do you think?’

‘I would have thought he was already involved, considering it’s you,’ she replies.

John looks between them. ‘Who are we talking about? Bro?’

‘No, no,’ Jade assures him. ‘It’s not anyone you know. It’s okay. If I can get him to help us out, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, it’s no skin off your nose, right? You just go and talk to Dave.’

John’s dubious at best, but he nods anyway. ‘Alright, but be careful, okay?’

‘When am I ever not?’

 

**= >**

 

‘I’m still mad at you,’ John says. He’s got his back turned, but he can imagine the look Karkat’s giving him. ‘You were really out of line, snapping like that. I know you’re worried alright, but you’re just feeding everyone else. There’s a _reason_ we’re rarely in one place at the same time any more, you know.’

‘Yeah,’ Karkat sighs. ‘I know.’ There’s a soft noise as he throws himself back onto the bed. ‘But what if they _have_ got him, John? We might not get him back.’

John pauses, and then turns back. Karkat is faking nonchalance again, spread-eagled and rumpled, but his tendons are showing in his hands and neck, every muscle tight. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, mouth downturned. John knows that look; he’s trying not to cry. He finishes undressing and gets into bed, pulling off his glasses and setting them down.

‘Are you just going to sleep like that, or are you going to get under the covers?’

‘Fuck you.’ But he gets under the covers anyway.

‘I don’t know, man, these walls are pretty thin. Someone might hear. I’m all for risky sex, but I just wouldn’t be able to look Rose in the eye if she heard.’

Karkat makes a sharp noise in the back of his throat that sounds somewhere between a laugh and a sob and ends up rolling onto his side to have a coughing fit because he’s choking on his spit.

John counts it as a victory and settles down to go to sleep. Karkat quiets after a few minutes, and stills. Eventually, he rolls over, jams a leg between John’s, tucks his shoulder under John’s arm, puts his head on his chest, and exhales.

‘Comfortable?’

‘Shut up, asshole.’

John laughs, ducks his head to plant a kiss in Karkat’s hair. ‘You’re cute.’

Karkat grumbles, but slides a hand down to curl around John’s hip, wriggles his fingers under the hemline of his boxers to press his palm against his tattoo. ‘Go to sleep.’

‘Alright, I’m going.’

‘Good.’

John is still vaguely aware that Karkat is still awake when he falls asleep, but there’s not a lot he can do about it by that point.

 

**= >**

When he wakes, he’s screaming. There are hands on his shoulders, in his hair, too many and too few and everything’s wrong. It’s in the wrong place, lopsided and twisted and sending sharp spikes of electric agony through his system. He screams and he fights and he digs his nails in but he gets no reaction.

‘Soll, Soll please, calm down.’

His throat is burning, acid and blood, and he tries to tear himself free but the hands holding him down are stronger. He gasps, and it could be words, could be sobs.

‘Let him up, he’s going to hurl.’

_Karkat_. He turns, gets directed, heaves. 

‘Wow, gross!’

‘Jade, oh my god.’

Fingers in his hair, stroking it away from his brow. Something tight around his eyes, holding his head together. Throbbing pain across his temples, down his cheek and curling around his jaw. He heaves again, but there’s nothing to cough up. He flops back, tries to breathe.

‘I’ll let them know he’s come to.’

‘I can’t see,’ he whispers.

A hand touches his face, but he can only feel part of it.

Feferi’s skin is soft and her voice softer still. ‘I know, sweetie. You’ll be okay.’

‘What happened?’

‘Equius called us. He said you’d been brought in.’

Somewhere someone grumbles. He slaps a hand to his face, finds fabric there, and fidgets. Feferi catches his hand.

‘Stop that,’ she says. ‘They’ll take it off soon.’

He digs his nails into her hand. She returns the favour.

Sollux has known Karkat for long enough now that he can recognise him the second he’s there, whether he can see him or not. Karkat’s fingers are shaking when he takes Sollux’s other hand and squeezes it tight.

‘Do you have any fucking idea how fucking worried I was about you? Jesus fucking Christ I thought you’d gone and got yourself fucking _killed_.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Sollux croaks.

‘No,’ Karkat says, and he’s radiating warmth, foreheads together. ‘No, it’s my fault. I should have made you come back with us. I left you on your own and you got – well, you know – and it’s my fault. Some best friend I am.’

They’re quiet for a moment. Sollux decides to dismiss Karkat’s ramblings for the moment, and focuses on his warmth instead. It helps the pain so he might as well.

‘Where is Equius anyway?’ Karkat asks. ‘I’d think he’d want to know Soll’s alright.’

Sollux hadn’t known Nepeta was even in the room, but she pipes up from the same side of the room as Karkat.

‘He went to the bathroom,’ she says. A chair screeches, and impossible pain blisters across Sollux’s brain. ‘I’ll go find him.’

A door shuts. Feferi brushes Sollux’s fringe back.

‘You should try to relax,’ she says. ‘The doctors will be here soon.’

‘Alright,’ he breathes, and does his best.

 

**= >**

The coma ward is divided into six sections, and in room 6:12, a young woman lies in her bed. She has been hooked up to all necessary equipment, tubes in her nose and needles in her arm, and her hair has been shaved away to repair the damage to her skull. If it wasn’t for the ghastly colour of her skin, for the scrapes and bruises and bandages, she could pass for asleep. As it is, she looks too much like a corpse.

The table by her bed has flowers in it, expensive ones filled to the brim with meaning. They’re very lovely flowers, but they need some water before they begin to die. Sunlight is streaming through the window, and other than the beeping heart monitor, there is little sound in the room.

A young man sits in the chair next to her, head buried in his hands. He could be crying.

On the other side of the hospital, his – tentatively labelled, at any rate – friends are gathered, in that vague, separated way of theirs. On his way to work this morning, having been informed by the group’s ill-appointed leader that one of their number was missing, he stumbled across said missing man, and had brought him to the hospital for emergency treatment. He had been missing an eye.

Equius Zahhak is not an idiot; he knows what the warning means.

An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth and he’s waded too deep into those waters to hope to disentangle himself from the poisonous plants and creatures lurking under the surface.

He takes a breath and pulls his face from his hands, covers his mouth with his fingers and looks with wet eyes at the girl in the bed.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers, and reaches out as if to touch her hand, but changes his mind and covers his mouth again. ‘I never meant for this.’

After finding Sollux’s unconscious body practically on his doorstep and getting him into the hospital, he’d informed Karkat that Sollux was no longer missing, and retreated to Aradia’s room. It was the first time he’d seen her since the Accident; the first he’d heard of it had been twelve hours previously during the meeting Karkat had insisted upon, and Nepeta had had the sense to sprawl all over him to keep him in his seat. Quite what he had intended to do, he wasn’t sure, but he was grateful that she, at least, knew.

He reaches out to touch Aradia’s fingertips, the pads of his fingers feather-light against her nails.

The heart monitor beeps away, that same steady one-two, one-two, one-two. He smiles a bitter little smile and gets to his feet, rips his eyes away from her bruised, bandaged face and goes to the window. It looks like rain could come any second; he’ll have to call Arthur to bring the car, he doesn’t think he could stand putting up with Eridan’s whining a second time.

‘Ah! I thought I’d find you here!’

He turns, and smiles a little gentler than he realises. He gestures for Nepeta to come in and looks back out of the window. The door clicks and she appears at his side, tucking herself in under his arm, wedged into his side. He doesn’t move to push her away, but he doesn’t embrace her either.

‘She looks sad,’ Nepeta murmurs into his lapel after a few moments of silence.

‘Who?’

‘Aradia. I wonder what she’s dreaming about.’

‘Comatose patients don’t dream.’

‘Sometimes they do.’ She’s quiet for a moment and then she says, ‘Oh, Soll’s awake.’

‘Oh,’ he murmurs. ‘Good.’

‘He screamed a lot. And puked.’

‘Nepeta, please.’

‘Sorry.’

Equius drums his fingers on the windowsill. ‘He’s alright though?’

‘Yeah, he’s fine, considering. Kanaya thinks they’ll release him today if he doesn’t puke again. I think she just wants him where she can keep an eye on him. You know how she is.’

 ‘Yes, I can imagine.’

‘I wonder who found him though! It was a good job you were here when he was brought in, or we might not have known for a while, I don’t know who’s on his contact list.’

‘I believe Aradia, Karkat and Feferi are labelled.’

‘Do you think the hospital will have connected it? I mean – Aradia and Dave get really hurt, right, and then Soll gets really hurt too. Do you think they’ll get people in?’

Equius thinks about it for a few moments. Or at least he pretends to think about it and instead watches a sparrow in one of the trees. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps.’

‘You think the Felt did it?’

‘Don’t you?’ he counters.

‘I think that whoever did it needs a really good kick in the mouth.’

‘I don’t condone violence,’ he reminds her.

‘Bullshit,’ she says, and squeaks when he gives her hip a warning squeeze. ‘Meanie.’

‘No, you’re just very silly.’

‘Come on, we should go and see Soll.’

‘In a moment.’

‘Alright.’

They stay there for perhaps five more minutes. When they leave, Nepeta brushes Aradia’s cheek and smiles sadly. Equius doesn’t look at her.

Back in Sollux’s room, the nurses have been in to clean him up and he’s sitting on the edge of his bed looking like he’s trying not to be sick. Karkat’s hovering whilst Feferi has perched next to Sollux to rub his back as soothingly as she could. When Equius and Nepeta enter, Sollux looks up and goes a shade of grey that doesn’t look particularly natural.

‘Hey!’ Nepeta says, and skirts around Karkat to give Sollux a brief hug. ‘Are you better now?’

Sollux shrugs. ‘I’ll,’ he starts, and then shakes his head.

Karkat catches Nepeta’s elbow and draws her back. ‘Don’t crowd him, Jesus fuck.’ He turns to look at Soll, who looks back with his one eye. ‘Will you be alright for ten minutes?’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Tell John you’ve been released. You’re coming back with us so he should know.’

‘I’ll be fine, go.’

Karkat hesitates, and then leaves the room.

 

**= >**

‘So I don’t know if you know, but Soll got injured.’

The heart monitor beeps.

‘Yeah, I know. It wasn’t my fault; I’ve been stuck in bed. Not even any hot nurses to keep me company. He lost an eye, but John says he’s okay. Well, as okay as he can be, considering. I mean, it’s not that different from what happened to us, right?’ He sighs, picks at the surgical tape. ‘I’m sorry, for what I did. I didn’t mean for it, y’know? I thought, maybe, they’d have our backs. It was a stupid idea to go in the first place, but I wanted to help.’ He laughs. ‘I guess I fucked up, huh? I always do.’

He falls silent for a little while, shifting uncomfortably in the cold plastic chair and trying to keep the weight off his chest. It doesn’t really work, and everything aches. The heart monitor beeps away, steady as a drum, and he taps out a rhythm alongside it, music in his veins. It’s probably just the painkillers.

‘John thinks we’re fucking again. I tried to tell him we weren’t, but you know what John’s like. Gets an idea in his head and doesn’t let it go. He’d never tell Soll though – definitely not now, not with his eye. I just – don’t understand him. I used to but – do you think we’re drifting apart, as a group, I mean? We used to be so tight, but now we’re all spread out. Well, no, most of us are here in NY, but we rarely see each other anymore. Is that meant to happen? Do we really just, stop talking to each other?’ He laughs a little, scratches the back of his neck. ‘I don’t want to stop talking to people, y’know? I like you guys. But we’ve got _careers_ now, and John keeps talking about _family_ and you just know Teri’s going to hear about it and then she’ll start on at _me_ about it. And I – I don’t want a family yet, Dee. Call me old-fashioned, but I want to be married to a girl before I get her pregnant. And I’m not – I’m not ready to marry Teri. I don’t _want_ to marry her. Don’t know if I ever will. It’s not like we’ve got a healthy relationship.’

He falls silent again, but she doesn’t reply to him, not that she could anyway.

‘John says Equius called to tell him that Soll had been brought in, but. It’s weird. The hospital is way out of his way, why was he here when he had to be at work? It’s not like him to just skip out, guy’s so anal about showing up to work every day. Wouldn’t take a day off if his mother died. I don’t know, maybe he’s changed. Love does that to a guy, I’ve heard.’

Biting down a groan, he gets to his feet. It feels good to be back on them, especially so soon, but fuck if it doesn’t hurt. He touches her cheek with his fingers, the tape holding the breathing tube in place coarse. He pulls a face.

‘Wake up soon, okay? We’re going to need you.’

‘Ah, Mister Strider, there you are! You gave the nurses quite a panic!’

He tosses her a look. ‘See what I mean about the nurses? Alright, alright, I’m coming. Not for you, but I’m waddling along like a duck that’s been tanked on morphine and had a liver transplant. That’s me, by the way. I’m a duck.’

When the door clicks shut, the room falls silent except for the heart monitor, steady as a drum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. University deadlines and all. Can't say there'll be a normal schedule now because there wasn't one before and that would be lying.


	7. Painting Pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crow spreads its wings, and a future is discussed.

James sits patiently at a table in the meeting room. He’s got the jitters again, fingers tapping out endless rhythms on the plastic, legs shaking. He remembers this sort of jitter, knows it only comes from one thing, from that all-powerful high that leaves him breathless and with a burning throat, tears in his eyes and he can’t stop laughing when he’s got that high, can’t stop touching and looking and listening and he loves it, loves it enough to hurt. And it does hurt, it burns, rips through him and leaves him so weak as to sleep without help.

His doctors know these jitters aren’t jitters that need medicating, they’re nerves, excitement. He’s never been one to hide positive emotions, and the strength of this one, the way it makes his heart beat and do somersaults and fly off the handle makes it one he’ll never stop showing.

It’s not a long wait, but it’s long enough that he’s starting to wonder; will he, will he, will he? Won’t he? Does he remember? Has he got the wrong date? He rubs at an eyebrow, tries not to smear the paint as best he can, but without a mirror, he’s probably blurred black and white, smeared a streak of grey up his face.

But then the wait’s over, and familiar footsteps are outside the door and he straightens, leg muscles tightening and hands falling still. He’s practically vibrating, trying to keep the grin down and failing because his best bro is standing in the doorway grinning and saying his name. No, not his name, but _his_ name, the one he’d introduced himself by, the one Karkat says isn’t a real name, but it’s his name anyway.

He’s out of the chair and across the room before his mouth’s shut, sweeping his best bro into his arms and squeezing him tight, ducking down to kiss him all over his face, black smudges all over his forehead and cheeks.

‘Tav,’ he breathes. ‘Tav.’

‘It’s okay,’ Tavros replies, loops his arms around James’ neck and drags him in. ‘I’ve got you.’

Kissing Tavros is like kissing a thunderstorm; there’s something oddly calming about it, his fingertips on James’ neck and shoulders so light as to be rain. But there’s something terrifying in it too. He’s come so close to losing this miracle, this wondrous creation made solely to exist in his arms, in his heart and mind and soul, and the thought of him leaving now, after so long, is wrong, so wrong, it hurts in his chest, claws and buries deep and leaves him the wrong sort of breathless. Tavros hushes him, quiet and tangles a hand in his hair, and the smile is blurred, spread as much over Tavros’ face as it is James’ and the taller man laughs, cups the shorter’s face and rubs a thumb across that miraculous mouth. Tavros kisses it, laughs a little.

‘Hello,’ he whispers, and smoothes his hand down the back of James’ skull, rests warm on his neck.

‘Hey.’

He can’t get enough of looking at him. From this distance, James can see all the flecks of gold in Tavros’ eyes, count every eyelash, watch his pupils shrink and dilate as they adjust to the light and shadow as they move and he blinks, frowns.

They’re moving?

Oh yes, he supposes they are.

Tavros laughs as he fumbles a step, and slides his hands along the curve of James’ shoulders to steady himself. ‘It’s been a while since we danced,’ he comments, and skips a few steps to catch up.

James links his fingers in the small of Tavros’ back and grins over the top of his head. ‘Too motherfucking long,’ he agrees, and lowers his face to smile into Tavros’ hair.

After a few minutes, he digs his hands into the smaller man’s belt and lifts. Tavros squeaks, and clenches his fists into the cotton under them.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Put your feet on mine.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Best dance moves, Tav. Best ever.’

‘Gamzee, I’m not standing on your feet.’

They lock eyes and Tavros has this crease in his cheek, the one James knows is from trying to keep a straight face. He supposes his jeans are digging in and shifts his thumbs so he’s holding his hips instead. There is paint smeared over his cheeks and mouth, and there’s a spot on his forehead that’s clinging to his hair, and James vaguely remembers painting his face properly once, and how amazing he’d looked. He wonders if he’d let him do it now.

‘Why not?’ he asks instead.

‘Because I’ve got metal feet!’ Tavros exclaims. ‘I’m going to hurt you!’

‘But you’re so tiny,’ James protests with a pout that hasn’t worked since he was six. ‘Don’t weigh nothing.’

‘Gamzee.’

 They stare at each other some more before James finally concedes and sets Tavros down. He blows out his cheeks and frowns off out of the window for a good ten seconds before Tavros shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

James turns his eyes back and breaks his expression with a grin.

‘It’s so good to see you. Best motherfucking visitor ever.’

Tavros smiles up at him, and it’s the softest smile James has ever seen. He thinks – no, he knows – he’s in love with this guy. He’s never been more in love in his entire life, and he doesn’t think that’s going to change.

Gently, so gently James thinks for a second that he’s a china doll except that’s silly, his face is warm, his whole body’s warm, he’s never been more alive, gently Tavros cups James’ face and holds him still.

‘I love you,’ he says, and James feels his breath catch, stutter in his chest before bursting free in a laugh.

‘I love you too. Always have.’

He smiles some more and guides James down so he can kiss him again. It’s different when Tavros initiates, softer and sweeter and longer. Tavros tempers his impulsivity by leaps and bounds and brings sensation to places James had forgotten about, tingles down his spine and a cool burning low in his gut. The fingers curled about his face are warm against his skin, soft and slender, and dare he say it, loving. The thumbs stroke against the edge of his painted smile, and his lips curl to match it.

James can’t help but stare, even though Tavros has told him off for it before. They’ve spent so little time together that he doesn’t want to miss anything. He puts his hand against Tavros’ neck, presses his fingers so he can feel his pulse racing, rubs his free thumb across the sliver of skin between the hems separated from his stretch. Tavros’ eyes twitch at the movement, and he presses in closer, uses James’ weight to support his own.

Sometimes, he forgets to breathe, they both do, and they come away from kisses as innocent as children gasping like they’re been running for their lives, and Tavros’ pulse is thrumming, singing the same chorale under his skin as it does when he goes for a jog, and James smiles, which does nothing except make Tavros grin back and then they’re not kissing, they’re just grinning against each other’s mouths, and that’s fine, that’s good.

James hums and brushes their noses together. Tavros has a nose that’s as cute as the rest of him, always has, and though he’s never said it, he likes to think that Tavros knows the break from the accident hasn’t changed that. It’s not like his own is much better.

‘Hey,’ Tavros whispers, and for a second, they’re seventeen, sprawled across James’ bed whilst Karkat shouts at his computer in the next room over and the world has condensed until it’s just them and the thumping bass line of whatever it was they were listening to at the time, and for a second, James can almost believe it.

‘Hey,’ he whispers back, and steals a kiss from the curve at the corner of Tavros’ mouth.

‘Are we going to stand here all day?’ he asks. ‘Or can we, uh, sit down?’

James grins. ‘Don’t even have to ask!’

He grabs his wrist and begins pulling him through the doors and through the corridors towards his room. Tavros rolls his eyes, but hastens to keep pace.

At James’ door, one of the nurses is waiting with a smug little look. James stops and gives her one back that makes him look like a teenager, all challenging grin and quirked eyebrow.

‘Play nice,’ she says, and swans off down the corridor.

James throws a rude gesture her way that makes Tavros giggle and try to shoosh him, but then James swings the door open and bows.

‘You’re such a dork,’ Tavros laughs, but steps inside anyway.

James follows and the door swings shut.

 

**= >**

 

It’s lonely here, so very lonely. What should be a busy street is empty; there are no people, no vehicles, no animals – just street lamps flickering, and fog rolling in. She can barely see a foot in front of her, and walks down the middle of the road with a misplaced sense of security. She’s not safe, but she is alone, and that’s enough for now. There’s a whispering, on the very edge of her hearing, swallowed by the fog, words she can’t quite decipher, but tries to find anyway, walking down the road to find the source.

Her head is fuzzy, aches behind her eyes and pain curls around her cheek and down into her jaw, throbs no matter how she rubs at it. It feels as though her feet don’t touch the ground, as though she’s not so much walking as she is floating, and even when she closes her eyes she can still see. Not, of course, that there’s all that much worth looking at in the first place. She wanders a little ways further down the street, which is far too long to be normal, or perhaps the fog is turning her in circles, it’s hard to tell, and becomes aware of something with her.

It should be a bigger surprise than it is to find a red duck waddling along beside you, but she gives it little more than a cursory glance before continuing on.

‘Is that you?’ she asks. ‘Making that noise?’

The duck quacks, sounds like it’s saying something, even if she can’t understand it, and vanishes.

‘Well, okay,’ she tells the air, and continues on her way.

There’s no sense of time here, and she could be walking, or floating, or whatever it is she’s doing, for hours or days, or maybe seconds or minutes. She doesn’t feel any tiredness, no aches or pains other than the ones in her head, and those are manageable at best. The same street lamps flicker, the fog is still thick, and she is still alone.

‘Hey.’

Scratch the last.

‘Hey yourself,’ she replies, and stops to take him in. He glows, an unnatural shade, pale skin and paler hair, and she knows him, this fits him more than the duck.

Her brain is scrambled, she knows that, can’t create his image fully. Things are wrong; he tapers off at the waist, a wispy tail of smoky nothingness trailing down to the ground; there are bandages wrapped around his middle, streaked with blood but he doesn’t seem to be bleeding. Just as well, the blood is orange.

‘You have wings,’ she says.

‘Caw, caw, motherfucker,’ he replies, and falls into floating step around her. His wings are bigger than he is, a crow’s wings but a hundred times bigger, and one curls around her with too much ease.

‘What happened?’ she asks after a few moments walking, ‘To everyone?’

Dave shrugs, doesn’t look at her. ‘Not a clue. I know what you know.’

‘What do I know?’

He thinks about it for a few moments, or rather, she thinks about it and puts it on his face, in his voice. Eventually, he looks across at her.

‘The Felt attacked us,’ he says. ‘Because we went looking for things we shouldn’t have. You think that you’re wrong, that the journal isn’t as important as you think it is. It’s just your grandma’s words in a little girl’s diary.’

He has a point, she thinks, but then he’s saying what she knows, so of course he does.

‘None of this would be happening now if we hadn’t gone looking in the first place. I should never have agreed to help you; you should have asked my Bro.’

That’s a little bit more him, and she’s not sure where it came from.

‘But we went and we looked anyway, and I thought that maybe the Crew would have had our backs, Hearts is meant to have mine, and Diamonds should be in here anyway, what with Rose being in New York, but we messed up, we didn’t expect the entire Felt crew to come looking for us. We didn’t expect Jack to be here or get involved.’

‘No,’ she agrees. ‘We didn’t. But we should have known better. He worries about you because he worries about Jade.’

‘No, he doesn’t.’ Dave waves a hand; there are claws instead of nails. ‘He worries about me because he – shut up.’

She doesn’t laugh, doesn’t smile. Dave watches her, and she stares ahead. She knows what he’s thinking, because she’s thinking it too.

‘I’m going to die,’ she tells him, or maybe tells the fog.

‘You don’t know that,’ he argues. ‘They can do things now, things to make you better, and you’re strong, stronger than anyone.’

‘I’m not strong,’ she replies. ‘Soll – he needs me. He needs me right now, and I’m not there. You said, you said he lost an eye. It’s my fault, Dave, it’s both our faults.’

‘Maybe. But what’s done is done.’

They walk in silence for several minutes.

‘Equius came to see you,’ Dave says when the silence becomes too much. ‘He came to see you and he said he never meant for this. I’d say it’s safe to assume he meant this, the coma. Captor. He never meant for it. You think he was depositing money in your account to try and get you to stop looking for the journal. You think there’s something he’s not telling you. Something that he doesn’t want you to know. Why else would he be paying you money? He doesn’t do that, he never has.’

‘Karkat thinks,’ she starts, but stops.

Dave sighs. ‘I know,’ he replies. ‘Of course I know, I’m a figment of your imagination. And even if it’s true, why are you trusting Karkat’s judgement? It took him far too long to man up and ask John out, and far too long to get James and Tav together. He’s not a reliable source of information these days. Dee, the journal is important, you know it. We both know it. It’s important. Stop convincing yourself it isn’t. If us looking for it was enough to get the Felt to attack us like they did, there’s something in there they don’t want us to get back. Soll got attacked by them. They want us dead, Dee, you know they do.’

‘No one’s safe,’ she whispers.

‘No one’s safe.’

‘Then what do we do?’

‘We try to work out why. I’ll keep you updated,’ he promises. ‘John will tell me everything, and I’ll come and tell you. We can piece it together, in here, where we can take forever to solve it if we need to and it’ll only take a minute out there. We’ll work it out. Why did you have to forget all your Aunt’s stories?’

‘I was young,’ she reminds him. ‘And more interested in other things. I thought they were all make-believe.’

‘Maybe they are, but if she was telling you stories from the journal, Dee, do you realise, there’s a reason this is happening.’

‘A cycle of revenge,’ she murmurs.

‘If you like.’

They walk in silence some more.

‘You’ll keep me in the loop?’

Dave nods, his wing squeezes around her shoulders. ‘As much as I’m in the loop. Gotta have someone to talk to, and you know, the people I want to talk to don’t want to talk to me.’

She nods back. ‘Alright then.’

‘Get some rest,’ he tells her.  ‘I think we’re both going to need it.’

He disappears in a swirl of orange feathers and she stands alone in a foggy street, looking at an empty sky.

 

**= >**

 

‘Are they looking after you?’

‘Wow, subject change. And – yes, they’re looking after me. To be honest, I think they’re still scared of you.’

James snorts. ‘They should be. Look at me, Tav. Sitting on my throne in the madhouse, looking out over all the motherfuckers kneelin’ before me and just _begging_ me to rip them to shreds because that’s what they need me for. That’s all they’re good for.’

‘Gamzee.’

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s alright.’

James wriggles closer, wedging himself into Tavros’ side and pressing his face into his neck. ‘I missed you.’

‘I missed you, too.’

They’re quiet for several long minutes, James too big to fit against Tavros’ side, but doing his best to try, legs wound round his waist, fingers in his shirt, and Tavros just pets his hair, eases the tangles free.

‘You’re going to get paint all over me,’ he says, but doesn’t really mind.

James grouses, rubs his nose against his boyfriend’s jugular and smears white paint up the line. ‘Never complained before.’

‘I complain every time.’

Whether he does or not is up for debate, because James has never listened, or maybe just never remembered, and whilst Tavros has grown to accept it, it does grate on his nerves. Karkat always tells him to stop being a dick whenever he mentions it to the shorter man, but Karkat tells him to stop being a dick no matter what he says. They never really warmed up to each other, not really. James tried to reconcile his platonic love for his brother with his romantically-inclined love for Tavros and couldn’t, so he gave up and separated up his life, devoted far too much time to the latter and not enough to the former, and that made things worse, but by then they were out of High School and planning the holiday and then it was too late to kiss and make up. People were dead, the police were asking questions and James’ bags were packed. Tavros silently thanks God every day that Jade had Bro around her finger, or things would have been even worse.

James, of course, ignores him.

They’d been talking about the painting on the canvas; he’s not particularly good at it, not with the way he shakes, but he’s decent enough, Tavros thinks. There’s not enough for him to tell what it is, but James told him it was going to be a carnival, be the best thing he’d ever painted. Tavros doubts it, a little, but lets him have it anyway, knows he needs an outlet that isn’t drugs. The sudden shift to talk about his old dealers is a little disheartening, more than anything; he’d thought they’d gotten past that, had hoped, a little, that he’d given up with it.

James fidgets a little more, wriggles a leg between Tavros’ own, presses his thigh against his crotch, and Tavros rolls his eyes, fidgets himself to fit them together better, but makes no attempt to move the bigger man. If he wanted to, he could, but James gets whiney and it’s just, well, to be honest, it’s not worth the trouble. It’s not like they’re actually going to _do_ anything right now, that’s not what this visit is about. He knows James would like it to be about that, but they have to give the doctor’s advance warning because it messes with his medication or something, nobody, like always, ever actually told Tavros anything about it.

‘So I was reading the other day,’ James says, and talks against Tavros’ neck, hums the words between kisses, and that’s kind of nice, in a paint-sticky, catch-and-drag sort of way.

Tavros tilts his head to give James better access, and he lingers on his Adam’s apple, on his pulse. ‘Oh? What about?’

‘Old Norse legends all up and getting their wisdom on.’ There’s a few moments of silence, and Tavros is almost entirely sure he’s wearing more of James’ make-up than James himself is, but that’s okay, as long as it doesn’t stain his clothes, he doesn’t really mind. He hums a little, encouraging, and James continues. ‘Odin all up and pulled his eye out, did you know? Just pulled it out so he could drink from this well. Got his wisdom on, just like a brother should, learnt all there is to know about all the bad shit about to come down on his family and the people he was meant to look after. It was a price, a warning.’

Tavros remembers reading Norse legends as fairy tales as a boy, being read them by his babysitter, but doesn’t say anything. He remembers the story of Odin giving his eye to Mímir so that he could know the past, present and future. He frowns a little, pulls himself away from James’ mouth to look him in the eye.

‘Why were you reading that?’ he asks, aims for idle curiosity and misses. Not that it matters, James wouldn’t notice.

James pushes a little, and Tavros goes, flops back onto the mattress so that James can sprawl out over him and do whatever it is he wants.

‘We lost a brother, didn’t we?’ he asks, shoves a hand under the Greco-Spaniard’s T-shirt to splay across his ribs, press a little. He hums, closer to a groan, presses an open-mouthed kiss against his jugular. ‘All up and got his wisdom on and did it all wrong. He didn’t want the wisdom, but the wisdom came and found him anyway.’

It’s the first time since their first kiss that Tavros has ever pushed James away in anything other than a playful ‘stop it I’m doing something’ manner.

‘Gamzee,’ he says, hand around the Indian’s wrist. ‘Gamzee, stop. Gam – look at me.’ When he does, he continues. ‘How did you know about that.’ It’s not a question.

James breaks eye contact almost immediately; guilt, Tavros thinks, and feels something sink in his chest, freeze in his stomach and boil like acid.

‘Everyone knows,’ he says, like it’s a defence. ‘We all know about it, all the people in the world, we all know. We can all see. It’s all there, between all the lines in the fairy tales, don’t you remember, we used to be told all about it.’

Tavros stares at him. ‘How did you find out?’

James fidgets, draws a line across the smudge of grey on his cheek, tries to even out the smile without a mirror or more paint. ‘My carnival brothers got a messenger coming to talk to me, tell me all the things that happen that I need to know.’ He sounds a little distraught, like he can’t imagine why he wouldn’t be told anything; Tavros knows that fear, knows he’s thinking, automatically locking onto the Accident and knows that he’s terrified that it’ll happen again, that something will happen that’ll cost him more than his legs and a broken nose.

‘You don’t need to know anything,’ Tavros tells him, pushes James back a little so he can sit up. James is in his lap properly now, too big but so small, and Tavros tugs him down, smoothes his hair back and picks it out of the paint, rubs his thumbs over his eyebrows and smudges the paint in. ‘You’re not in here to know anything. You’re in here to get better, remember? So that you can get out and we can have an apartment on the fifth floor with a faulty shower, do you remember?’

 James can’t meet his eyes, no matter how much Tavros tries to coax him, and Tavros takes pity, lifts his chin and pulls James in under it, presses a kiss into his hair and holds him close.

‘It’s alright,’ Tavros assures him. ‘You’ll be alright. Just get better, okay? Don’t worry about us, we’ve got it all worked out. We know what we’re doing. You just worry about you.’

‘But what if,’ James starts, but Tavros cuts him off.

‘No, don’t start that one. Gamzee, I’m serious, okay? We’re okay, we know what we’re doing. Trust me, okay? Trust Karkat. He knows what he’s doing.’

Which is a lie, because Karkat has been an absolute dick the last three days, fussing like a housewife over Sollux, and trying to make sure he has everything he needs. Sollux, for his part, is being a miserable ass, which Tavros thinks is more than fair, considering he’s now only got one eye, and despite Vriska’s best attempts, is refusing to impart with the knowledge of what an eye socket looks like. He’s taken to spending time with Aradia, and no matter how much Feferi niggles at him, is refusing to say what happened. Says it’s dangerous. Karkat of course, has been throwing tantrums left, right and centre over that and cursing up storms all over the shop.

Nobody is actually sure if they’re safe anymore, but they’re making no indication of leaving town any time soon. John is determined to get the Felt for it, whether they were responsible or not – Tavros is about 90% sure they are, given what the dealers have been saying – which is pretty much damning them all, because from what Rose has been saying, the Felt won’t take a challenge like that lightly, and what with how loud John’s been shouting it. Well.

‘I’m scared,’ James murmurs, and Tavros blinks, looks down at him.

‘Sorry?’

‘That you’ll get yourself all up and motherfucking hurt. Get your ass killed. What if, Tav? What if?’

‘Hush. I’m not going to get myself killed. What would the Felt even want with me? I’m not much use to anyone.’

James grumbles something, but Tavros isn’t good enough at the garbled mess of languages that James sometimes slips into. Tavros does his best to hush him, kisses his hair and pets his neck, stop the panic before it starts. The highest of highs leads to the furthest of falls, and it’s never really safe when James comes down, not for anyone. When James pushes, Tavros goes, and lets the taller man shuffle around to rest an ear against his heart and press both hands against his ribs. This is their usual position, Tavros sprawled out with James fitting around him. It’s the most comfortable one, given James’ bones and Tavros’ prosthetics. It works well enough for them though, gives them room to breathe and presses them together in all the right ways.

It’s not long before James is distracted again, leaping to his feet and gathering paint and brushes and coming back, and Tavros pushes up onto his elbows.

‘You’re not painting my face,’ he says.

James just laughs and crawls into his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but do you know what would be really, really nice? If you guys talked to us. That'd be cool. Let me know that you're actually reading it, guys, that would be nice. I know you are, because I can see the hit count going up, but no one's talking to me. I have no idea if you're enjoying it. Whether you're actually reading it or just clicking on it, hating it, and clicking back. I don't know whether I'm doing it right or not. So it'd be nice if you'd talk to us. I promise neither of us bite. Give me a kick up the arse to get the next chapter out faster, I need motivation. Motivation is commentary. Thank you.


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